Forged Through Resilience
by BlackPhoenixI
Summary: People have always said Fate is a whimsical mistress, but is it truly Fate? Such a question Harry would ponder as he journeys from his reality to another. Something is pulling the strings and Harry hates being another piece on a chessboard. No matter who's playing the game.
1. Chapter I

**We don't own Harry Potter or Avengers, they're owned by J.K. Rowling and Disney respectively. This is a collaborative work between myself and Venerance. Enjoy and please R&R!**

* * *

**July 29, 1999, near Folkestone, Kent, England**

The moon's glare was all that lit the small roadside trail in front of Harry. Pulling the Cloak closer around his shoulders, Harry shielded his gaze away from the glaring lights streaking down the road from the quaint village below. As he paved down the gravel path, a loud cheer sounded ahead, momentarily causing Harry to freeze. Skimming his surroundings, Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he located two muggles drunkenly singing out merry cheers as they stumbled away from an alleyway.

Tapping the cracked glass on his watch, Harry scowled before picking up his pace. He had approximately twelve minutes to reach the Eurotunnel Terminal in Folkestone. If it wasn't for the damned Ministry and their stubborn hounds, he would have just Apparated directly onto the Eurostar train. '_Bloody Ministry and their damn records…' _

* * *

**Three Days Earlier**

A screech erupted through the forest as a flailing creature, cloaked in rags of black, frantically swam through the air to escape from the ethereal pulsing light. Sagging down, Harry allowed his patronus to fade away as he watched the Dementor fade into an imaginary dot in the night sky. With a flick of his wand, the campfire was quickly snuffed out and the tent collapsed in itself. Grabbing his knapsack, Harry quickly packed his belongings as he kept a wary eye through the treeline.

It took too long for Harry to realize that the Ministry had been tracking his movements. Every jinx, every charm, every Apparition, the Ministry knew. From Surrey to Edinburgh to Herefordshire, it seemed as if the Ministry's Hit-Wizards and Aurors were always one step ahead. It was only when a group of fresh faced recruits arrived to apprehend him, did Harry manage to discover how they kept finding him so swiftly. A variant of the trace, one that tracks magic used throughout Great Britain.

Grumbling to himself, Harry made sure to pat his chest before nodding. He kept everything important in separate mokeskin pouches upon his chest. A few books from the vaults of the Potter and Black families and as much gold he could grab and fit into a couple of pouches when he first discovered the Ministry's verdict while he was in Gringotts.

As Harry trekked through the forests outside of Godric's Hollow, he couldn't help but ponder what his parents would've thought if they saw him now. '_They'd be bloody pissed off' _Harry mused as he blew out his cheeks. It did not matter to the Ministry that Harry was both Head of the House of Potter and Black. The fact that he had defeated the Dark Lord had only earned him peace for measly three months.

Then there had been the incident at Nott Manor. The extinction of the Nott family line. A tragedy to be sure, but it served its purpose. A catalyst in the campaign against Harry James Potter, the Man-Who-Conquered. Never mind that he was only directly responsible for the death of Tiberius Nott, a marked Death Eater. His wife and two children had been killed in the firefight by other Aurors on his squad. He personally saw Head Auror Robards kill the man's wife.

Of course none of that mattered now. The Nott family was dead and the papers had begun their smear campaign. Not every Death Eater and sympathiser was caught at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. Those who remained in power, they were the ones who were most dangerous and yet, without hard proof, were untouchable. Blackmail, bribes, backroom dealings, all factors Harry estimated they'd used in their campaign to slander his name.

The "Public Enemy Number One", they called him, yet again.

He was sure that wherever Sirius was, he was likely having a nice laugh at his circumstances. Statements from his team during the Nott raid plastered the pages of the Daily Prophet. The _Quibbler,_ however, published articles in his favor. Luna's segments on his actions during the war attempted to cast him in the light of a savior of Wizarding Britain. It was unfortunate that many still held a large stigma against the _Quibbler_. They were too enraptured on the mainstream news of _The Daily Prophet_ and the Wizarding Wireless Network. Like leaves in the gusts of Autumn, the public was quickly swayed.

Harry was pulled out of his musings when he heard the tell-tale call of an owl flying overhead. Drawing the Elder Wand, Harry cautiously prepared to fire a spell only to immediately recognize it as Neville's tawny owl. "_Constant vigilance"_, Alastor Moody's quote echoed through the chambers of his mind. Carefully tapping the letter with a branch he gathered from the forest floor, Harry reluctantly proved its unresponsiveness before tearing the letter open:

_Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you. The Ministry has been going spare trying to find you. I'm not sure if you've heard, seeing as you are on the run and all. But there were rumors going around that France is offering asylum. I've contacted Hermione who talked to Fleur and the rumors are true! I have included a ticket on the Eurostar train that crosses the Channel._

_I wish you could come here but the Ministry has been monitoring everyone who knows you personally extremely closely. It's utter bollocks, I tell you. I don't know if I can risk another letter but I want you to know, most of the DA fully supports you. Best of luck mate. The train leaves at 8:45 p.m. on July 29th. Which means you'll be in France on my birthday. Don't be late., _

_Neville_

It was nice to hear from one of his remaining friends, but he was glad that they were not trapped like he was. He would rather that they be protected from the Ministry. Not stuck camping in abandoned buildings and the middle of the wilderness. Harry, however, frowned at the carelessness from Neville. If the letter would have been intercepted then Neville would have been accused of treason. Harry couldn't do that to Neville, it was too dangerous to send a response back. Tucking the letter and the ticket into a pocket in his pack, Harry began making his way south, towards the city of Folkestone.

* * *

**July 29, 1999, Folkestone, Kent, England**

As he suspected, the terminal was occupied with a Hit-Wizard patrol. Their misuse of proper muggle clothing gave themselves away. Whether it was now standard protocol for the Ministry to dispatch MLE teams to all transportation centers in Britain or if the news of France's asylum held merit, Harry did not know. Tucking his chin behind the collar of his jacket, Harry made sure to slide his wand into his hand before prowling in the center of the crowd to blend in. A bit off from his position, Harry could see several of the Ministry's crups scouring around the crowds. It would not be long before they caught his scent.

As Harry made his way through the building, his eyes scoured through the crowd to see if anyone was watching before darting into the loo. Once inside, Harry quickly made his way into a stall before fastening the lock. He crammed his cloak into the pouch around his neck before slipping his wand into a second mokeskin pouch he stashed in his briefs. It was better now, that it was placed out of the reach of the government, or any other wizard or witch for that matter.

Emerging from the stall, Harry kept his head down with his ticket clenched in his hand as he approached the ticket handler at the entrance to the sitting area. A glance towards a clock on the wall told him that he only had six minutes to get onto the train. The ticket handler didn't even gave him a second glance as he stamped the ticket and allowed Harry past the entrance gate.

Approaching the train's doors, Harry could see at least two Ministry Hit-Wizards looking his way. Their dogs didn't make him feel any better either, continuously sniffing the air while growling at the nearby muggles. For once, Harry was grateful for the amount of Muggles still in the terminal. Hastening his pace, Harry pushed past several annoyed travellers as the crups behind him began creating a wide berth. Breaking free from the crowd, Harry scurried into the waiting train.

Passing through the compartments, Harry finally reached the last cab which played host to an amorous couple and a snoozing old man. Releasing a sigh of relief, Harry found a small aisle seat and quietly settled in. Looking down at his watch, he resisted the urge to tug at his collar as the long hand slowly revolved around the face. Only two more minutes and he would be on his way to freedom.

Drumming his fingers against his knee, Harry leaned back and closed his eyes. Two more minutes. Two more minutes till the train moved. Two more minutes until he would leave British soil. Two more minutes until he would be able to leave this nightmare behind. Only the sounds of his breathing filled Harry's ears as he exhaled through his nose deeply.

The train slowly started moving and Harry exhaled deeply. He wanted to weep. His first home, a place where he truly belonged, was swept away in a few short seconds, leaving him to flee everything he had once known_. _A bitter taste crawled past his tongue as he half-hearted glared at the retreating train station. In only a few short hours, his new life in France will start. Freedom.

Closing his eyes, Harry allowed himself to settle into a comfortable position in the cushiony seat. Allowing for the lull silence of the compartment to cajole him to rest.

"_Constant vigilance"_

Harry's eyes snapped open as a wand hovered inches away from his face. Only allowing time for a surprised gasp to elicit from his lips before a flash of red filled his vision.

* * *

**July 30, 1999, Department of Mysteries, London, England**

Groggy. That was the term Harry would use to describe himself. Blearily blinking his eyes, Harry winced as a myriad of bright lights flashed across his vision. Attempting to raise a hand to block the annoyances, he froze when the clinging sound of metal chains audibly rang. Weakly raising his hand once more, Harry stared in befuddlement at the metal fetters fastened across his wrist with his other hand hanging beneath.

"Eyes up, Potter." Someone from above spat as a hand yanked his hair back, pushing his gaze to the wavering mural in front of him.

Swimming with endless ripples against an unseen breeze, a hazy pane of black silk gestured invitingly to his shackled figure. Framed by a tall stone pointed archway so cracked and crumbling, it was a wonder that it still stood. So delicate yet so resilient, it appeared as old as time itself.

The grips on his upper arms released, dropping him upon the rough stone dais surrounding the centerpiece. Several flashes of light illuminated the chamber, allowing Harry to peek through the fringes of his hair at the hems of grey robes surrounding him. Planting his foot against the crumbling stone beneath him, Harry's legs began to scream as he unsteadily rose from the ground only for a foot to plant itself on the small of his back before shoving him back down.

"It is a tragic day when the person who saved us all, turns on us in the end." The noise echoing throughout the chamber quietened as the reverberating clacks of heels grew louder and louder until it stopped.

A hand gripped his chin, forcing his head to turn to the stern visage of Amelia Bones. Her eyes roamed Harry's face, searching, before she released him with a huff. Hanging his head, the drabble escaping from the crowd and the Minister faded to a dull buzz.

Seconds began to feel like hours as Harry found himself slowly dragged to the foot of the veil. Inaudible rumbles sounded from behind as Harry locked his gaze with the flutters of the silky curtain.

"_Harry"_

"_Harry"_

"_Harry…"_

A spell snapped the manacles encircling his limbs but Harry paid no notice. Reaching out, Harry allowed his hand to brush against the thin curtain. Slippery. It was almost tangible, a chill gracing his fingertips before dancing away.

Rubbing his fingers together, Harry gaze flitted back to the thin shroud before him. Unseen to all but him, the curves amongst the shroud gently formed the silhouette of two faceless figures, one sloping and twisting with arches and the second rigid and strong. Both gesturing to him with invisible smiles. A flash of verdant green and tint of chocolate brown flickered for a short second before it was swept away by the next current.

The flashes from the cameras in the room blended away as Harry took his first unaided step into the figures' welcoming arms.

* * *

**Sometime, Somewhere**

Harry blinked.

The light that he had seen as he had embraced the curtain was gone and all he could see were stars. Thousands of them. Glistening and streaking across the sky in a haze of ethereal beauty. Without thought, Harry raised his hand to the sky, as if to brush away the tears of an unseen lover.

The soft sounds of footsteps across the dew-laden grass aroused Harry's curiosity as it came to a halt besides his head. Tearing his gaze from the marvel of the night sky, Harry glanced to the side to see a pair of feet, as pale as a vanilla ice cream with a slight touch of caramel, waiting patiently.

"Now, what are you doing here?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer only to have it close as the feet disappeared and instead, a body covered in sheets of black came to a rest near him, rustling the wet grass beneath. Shifting his gaze upwards, Harry found himself slightly peeved as a hood disguised the identity of the strange individual.

"Who are you?" His voice cracked which would have embarrassed him just a few years ago, but at the moment, what was there to care about at that very moment?

"A concept." The individual besides him answered. Lifting a hand into the air, the individual traced a single star in the night sky before its light burst and extinguished.

"I don't suppose I can get a better answer now, can I?" Harry snorted as he turned his head and began observing his surroundings. An inconsequential hum answered his question as Harry slowly identified several stone monoliths revolving around him in a circular pattern.

"And why so?"

Harry frowned at the question as he attempted to delve back into his memories. They were murky, swamped with unwanted bog and mess. But eventually, several echoes of his final moments finally wavered past his eyes.

"I'm dead." Harry answered as the drapes over his mind carefully parted. "The Veil. I passed through." Silence filled the air as Harry lowered his chin.

"So you say."

Harry's mind came to a screeching halt as he threw himself forward. Jerking his head in the direction of the individual, Harry stared, bewildered, at the hollow darkness occupying the hood that rested next to the grassy outline of his own body.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry demanded as he took in a shaky breath. "I died. I know it. The Veil of Death. My godfather fell through it because of that bint and he never reappeared."

"He fell because it was his time."

"It wasn't!" Harry burst as his hands tightened into fists. "It wasn't his time!"

"Yes, it was," Harry stumbled back as the individual floated to its feet. Brushing away the drops of dew that collected on its robes, the figure turned towards him as it summoned a staff to its outreached hand. "Do not complain of mercies granted upon you."

"Mercies?" Came a stutter from Harry lips that he instantly hated. "You call my godfather's death a mercy?"

"His presence was a mercy." The individual corrected as it leaned against its staff. "A gift you wasted."

"Who are you?" Harry once more demanded as he began to pat his body down in an attempt to find his wand. Twisting his head to stare at himself, Harry found himself pausing when all he had on was a simple shirt and trousers.

"A concept, a belief. An end to all and the beginning to many. I am Death." Harry blinked before blinking once more. There was a slight temptation to laugh at the absurdity of such a comment but Harry found his tongue halted.

"Oh" was the only most intelligible answer that escaped his lips. "I don't suppose you have the skull face as well would you, you prick?"

There was a modicum of silence before the individual leaned back and laughed. A virtuous melody seemed to spew from its faceless hood as it rested a hand against the hem of the robe's hood before slipping it down.

He was not sure if he was disappointed. Almond eyes with irises of midnight black framed by double-lidded eyelids, stared in slight amusement at Harry's bemused expression through the sweeping flicks of her eyelashes. Molded onto a visage of pale ivory, her onyx locks were consolidated into a tight bun and her full lips pressed together in a minute smirk.

A faint memory from grade school wormed its way into Harry's head. Looking at him as if she knew, Death began to speak. "Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence."

"A little ostentatious for you isn't it?" Harry blurted out only to flush red as Death narrowed her eyes in question.

"Oscar Wilde," Death spoke as she approached a now nervous Harry. "Those were his words, not mine." Reaching out, Death trailed a finger down Harry's jawline before grasping at his chin. "You have questions you wish me to answer. Questions I cannot answer. Time is fickle and there is only so much I can afford."

"So all you are here for is to drop in, say 'hey' before leaving?" Harry snorted as he pushed Death's hand away. "Where are we?"

"A crossroads." Death answered bluntly as she tapped her staff against the ground. All around, the rubble surrounding the stone monoliths began to rise and fall, resituating themselves as the ground shook and tore away, revealing hundreds of pristine corpses of men and women rising to the surface. "A choice."

"Wait…" Harry spoke as the earth finally came to a rest and the stone columns around him glowed with unseen magic. "This is Stonehenge. We are still in Britain!"

"No," Death answered as she walked past the rows of unspoiled bodies. "Your world is no more. Instead, you have been brought to me to make a choice. A choice that those around you have had the privilege to make."

Harry's brow crinkled as he tore his gaze away from the peaceful faces of the dead. With another tap of her staff, multiple portals began appearing in every gap between each stone pillar.

"You have a choice." Death inhaled as she used her staff to point towards the open doorways.

"What if I refuse to choose?"

"Then you will be trapped here," Death replied bluntly.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Harry questioned as he glanced at the myriad of portals. "What have I ever done to you?"

"My Hallows have always been easily attainable by those who searched." Death spoke as she gazed up at the stars above. "But approval, many of them did not receive. For my Hallows are _aware_. Their will, their purpose dictated the fate of those who wielded. It was rare for one to come into possession of a Hallow. It was rarer for them to be approved. But you, you have been touched by all three. Even in your swift time with them, you gained their approval, and in turn, mine as well."

"That's great and all," Harry began as he ignored the small glare from Death from his dismissal. "But why force me into this choice? Why not just let me rejoin my family?"

"Intervention." Death answered as she planted her staff into the ground before leaning back against it. "Your life was snipped at an unapproved moment. As recompensation, you must continue to live out the remainder of your life in a different reality. When you leave here, you will have enough of your family's wealth to build yourself a life and several of their family magics at your disposal. Finish your education, then do what you like. It's your life to live now, with nobody to force your destiny or fate. Only what you make of it."

One moment she had been there, the next she was gone. Harry looked around Stonehenge before sighing and standing up. Closing his eyes, Harry walked forward, allowing for the static shock of a random portal to envelope him.

* * *

**July 31, 1999, 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England**

Theo Powell was having an unusual night. He hadn't been able to sleep well at all. It was as if he was being kept from his bed. Away from his wife's arms. He was currently seated at a table in front of the window that looked out onto the street. He had gotten up and brewed himself a pot of tea. Nothing soothed his body like tea with honey. As it was, it was a good time to work on a bit of his poetry.

Theo was looking down at his tea when he noticed movement on the street through the window. There was a young man standing there. He didn't look to be over the age of 19. The boy was staring up at his house. It was slightly unsettling in a way. He got up from his chair as the boy walked up to the door. Theo opened the door just as the young man raised his fist to knock.

"What do you want? It is the crack of dawn. Do you want to wake everybody in the neighborhood?" He whispered fiercely.

The boy had the grace to look a bit ashamed, "My apologies, I was told this was where my godfather lived."

Theo looked at him suspiciously, "My family has been living in this house for over a decade."

He immediately noticed the change in the boy's eyes. They had been a bright emerald green. Now his eyes were plain green. The type of green you see when you leave an avocado out on the porch for a day, the type of green that grass gets after it hasn't rained for a bit but isn't bad enough to turn brown and die yet. A definite change in appearance.

"You've probably been given the wrong address," Theo sniffed as he gazed upon the downtrodden boy. "But you should not be bothering folks this early in the morning. It's ungodly."

"I'm sorry," Harry spoke as he turned his gaze away from the slightly suspicious look on the man's face. "Enjoy your day."

Making his way down the steps, Harry's ears twitched from the click of the door shutting behind him. Casting a quick survey of the area around him, Harry ducked behind a tree and with a flick of his wand, disapparated from the desolate sidewalk.

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**Thanks for making it this far. If you feel we've earned it, please leave a review. **


	2. Chapter II

**Welcome back! We changed the title to **_**Forged Through Resilience**_** as we feel it fits our story the best. As always, we don't own HP or Marvel. This is a collaborative work between myself and Venerance. We also thank the help of Nauze and Philip Tomarys. There are two A/Ns at the bottom of this chapter that should be read by all. **

**To everyone who took time to review the first chapter, we appreciate it so much! We hope you enjoy it and please R&R!**

* * *

Tossing his book to the side, Harry burrowed his head into his hands in frustration. _Potions_. Why would he bother attempting to study potions if he couldn't even find evidence of magic in the first place. Threading a hand through his hair, Harry pushed himself off his bunk before heading to his knapsack.

Grimmauld's Place, the Burrow, The Leaky Cauldron, Hogwarts. Gone. As if the Wizarding World in this reality had never existed. So why even bother attempting to study potions if he wouldn't be able to use the majority of it? Roughly yanking a fresh pair of folded clothes from his knapsack, Harry quickly changed, tossing his dirty set onto the tent floor.

"What now, Harry?" he asked himself as he collapsed onto a chair providing companionship to the empty table.

His eyes flickered to the mokeskin pouches sitting innocently by his knapsack - tossed to the side in a scurry when Harry was making his way to bed last night. Reaching down, he gently scooped one of the pouches into his hand before placing it onto the table. With a flick of his wrists, Harry pulled back the bag's strings, releasing the tight seal at the very top. With a slow topple, the bag fell over allowing several golden coins to spill across the table.

Picking one at random, Harry closed his eyes as he spun the coin in a circle. Round and round the coin spun, defying gravity with the force applied. One moment, the face of a wizard gazed at him with a blank expression, the next, a roaring dragon.

"Gold," Harry scoffed to himself as he flattened the coin against the table. "I wonder if one of the pubs in London would accept it for food." A chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he twirled the coin between his fingers. Only, for his chuckle to halt and the coin to drop noisily onto the table.

"Bugger me," cursing as he swiftly pushed himself away from the table. "I bloody forgot about food!"

Throwing a jacket over his body, Harry quickly scooped up the fallen galleons before dropping them back into their little home. Tightening the cords around the mokeskin pouch, he jammed it into his pocket alongside the two by his knapsack. Hefting his knapsack over his shoulders, Harry trudged outside before allowing the tent to collapse onto itself with a flick of his wand. Shoving it into his knapsack, he rapidly turned around before apparating away.

Reappearing on a street, Harry found himself assaulted with a loud honk before he tripped and fell. Crumpling onto the street, Harry barely had time to turn his head up before a cab sped past, centimeters away from where he was laying. An audible groan escaped between his lips as he dropped his head onto the asphalt below with newfound exhaustion. What a ridiculous mistake. Rubbing his eyes, Harry pushed himself to his feet before casting a wary gaze around to see if anyone had noticed.

Luckily for him, everyone seemed to be busy admiring the surrounding sights. As Harry turned his attention away to brush the bits of gravel that stuck to his clothes, a cough sounded behind him making him freeze. Slowly pivoting, Harry found himself looking up at the stern face of a bobby eying him up.

"Were you jaywalking?"

"Uh, no sir," Harry responded as he nervously kept eye contact with the officer. "If I was, I didn't mean to. Wasn't paying attention to where I was going, really."

The officer grunted as his eyes roamed Harry's face, searching. Leaning back, the man gave himself a nod before casting a small glare in Harry's direction. "You watch yourself, if I catch you doing so again, I'll be forced to hand you a citation."

"Yes sir, sorry sir," Harry replied as he anxiously backed away. "It won't happen again." Turning his body, he hurried down the sidewalk releasing a heavy breath that had built within his chest.

"Bloody hell," he murmured to himself as he skirted around an Asian family taking pictures of the nearby buildings. "Focus Harry, you're not in Hogwarts anymore. You're back in the muggle world, everything is different."

Harry inwardly winced when his empty stomach began to growl. He hadn't had dinner nor breakfast the day before. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had a decent meal that wasn't composed of cereal bars or juice boxes. Slipping his wand into his hand, Harry cursed himself as he slipped into a small alleyway before casting a disillusionment charm to hide from the people nearby. Stepping back out, he paved his way towards the nearby McDonald's across the street.

The mechanical chime of the door ringing attracted several confused looks as the door opened and closed by itself. Loose hinges were the cause according to one of the employees as they shrugged off the strange occurrence. As the employees became preoccupied once more, Harry summoned two burgers waiting on the warming rack alongside an empty cup. Unseen, the two burgers and cup zoomed towards the invisible Harry who barely caught them. Shuffling to the drink machine, Harry muttered a soft "muffliato" as he began filling his cup before heading to the lone table in the back of the building. Harry unwrapped the burgers and began to eat.

Guilt from stealing the burgers was swiftly overpowered by the mouthwatering taste of hot food sliding through his mouth. A small groan of satisfaction emitted from Harry's chest as he took a sip from his cup of water. Ravaging through the two burgers before chugging his cup of water, a small belch burst through Harry's lips before he leaned back in his seat with a content smile.

He needed money. Muggle money, not Wizarding money. Racking his brain, Harry thought back to his trips into London where he would be forced to accompany Petunia for her various types of shopping. And when she didn't have any quid with her, she would take Harry with her to the bank; she didn't trust those robot ATMs that sought to steal the hard-earned money Vernon brought home.

"The bank," Harry exclaimed to himself, "Of course, HSBC Bank!"

Harry quickly cleaned up his trash before depositing it into the garbage bin. With a twist, Harry Apparated out of the busy McDonald's.

Reappearing outside the building, Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the security guard outside the entrance looked around for the source of the strange _pop_. Dodging to the side of the building, Harry released his disillusionment charm before wandering back to the bank's entrance where he greeted the guard with a nod. Entering the building, Harry found himself directed to one of the empty seats when he told a teller of his request to open a new bank account.

Signing his name on the wait sheet, Harry relaxed into the comfy cushions of the soft lounge chair beneath him. It wasn't long before a smartly dressed man wandered over and called his name. Following the gentlemen into an office surrounded by glass walls, Harry found himself settling into a chair, much less comfortable than the ones in the lobby, as the man made his way behind the desk.

"A pleasure to meet you today Mr. Potter," the man introduced as he reached across the desk to shake Harry's hand. "My name is Dean Riveria. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to open up a bank account, please." Harry answered as he pushed his glasses back.

"That's wonderful!" Riveria smiled as he turned to his computer and began to type. "Now, what are you looking for? A basic checking account, savings, CD, IRA?"

Harry blinked as the man began rattling off different types of accounts. He opened his mouth in an attempt to respond only to shut it when nothing came out. His confusion must have been evident in his face as the man chuckled.

"Don't worry, I assume that this must be your first time?"

A wordless nod. The man smiled before rapidly typing onto his keyboard once more.

As he sat there, Harry became more and more flabbergasted as the man in front of him began listing and describing a myriad of explanations for the different types of accounts offered by the bank. When he was finally decided on a basic checking and savings account, Harry found himself bombarded once more with a whole new avenue of information and requests. A summons for a mobile number, email, home address, identification papers, rattled Harry's brain as the man stared in expectation.

In an attempt to calm the brewing headache, Harry casted the _Imperius_ curse on the man. The procession proceeded much faster to his relief. At the end, with a small amount of money from the bank transferred into his account, Harry thanked the man for his services before asking where he could go to exchange a large amount of gold. After several answers, many of them consisting of random pawn shops, Harry finally managed to receive a proper answer, it being the Swiss National Bank.

A quick _Finite_ and _Confundus_ charm had Harry leaving the building contently. Wandering down the street, Harry began to ponder on ways to make his life easier. Official documentation. How long could he keep using magic against the muggles before someone noticed, before he slipped up? Despite his actions, Harry had no desire to become a criminal. He needed proof of citizenship. An official address. Something that would help him blend in.

Asking several people in his vicinity, he managed to find one of several general hospitals in the area. Following the directions given to him, Harry continuously apparated under the disillusionment charm until he found himself at the foot of the closest hospital. After ducking out of sight, behind one of the hospital's stone columns, Harry pointed his wand towards himself before attempting to transfigure his clothes.

He didn't know what he had even attempted to transfigure the first time around when he stared at his clothes. A mix of blue, white, and brown. It looked to be the offspring of scrubs and a trenchcoat. The second time wasn't that much better either. It wasn't until ten minutes later did he make for a passable impression of a doctor. Entering into the hospital's main lobby, Harry silently used the _point-me _spell to direct him into the maternity ward.

Asking one of the nurses to direct him to the head nurse. The nurse led him to an older woman who stared at him in a befuddled manner. When the younger woman left, Harry turned to the older woman and casted the _Imperius_. On Harry's behest, the two exited the corridor before being led to an open office playing host to several nurses as they answered calls and walked into the rooms of patients from across the aisles encompassing the hub. As the head nurse began digging into the cabinets by the desks, Harry's listening perked when a television set in the hub area began to speak.

"_That's right, Christine. The police have finally managed to unearth the details concerning the surprise bombing on the U.S. Embassy in London last week. We now know that the accident claimed the lives of over forty-seven men and women, all of whom have been identified. Over eighty more have been sent to St Thomas' Hospital in varying conditions. Reports from the Police suggest this act of terrorism may be due to the rising tensions against the Taliban in the Middle East. Our Minister of Defense is strongly recommending an increase in police activity and border security to ensure such an event does not occur again."_

The words from the television began to fade away as chilling screams echoed in Harry's stretched high as everlasting cackles bred through the air like a swarm of bodies strewn everywhere. Once filled with life and laughter, now staring back at him with empty expressions.

"_This is your fault."_

"_Your blood brought him back."_

"_All your fault…"_

"Doctor? Doctor are you okay?" A hand landed on his shoulder, jolting a stumble of shock from Harry as he quickly backtracked into a wall, face flush with his chest rising and falling heavily. He tried to breathe in and was grateful when a cup of water was raised to his lips. Using what little Occlumency he knew, he forced the memories away. He knew that most of the nurses were looking at him in worry as he straightened out his clothing and stood back up. Clearing his throat, he was relieved to notice that the television set was now shut.

When the head nurse returned and slipped him the blank birth certificate. He thanked the nurses before walking out. Scribbling his name and false date on the certificate, he handed the paper over to the head nurse who nodded and turned back to the nursing hub. Once she returned, handing him the official certificate while informing him of the copy sealed and placed into the archive, Harry released her from the Imperius. Obliviating and confounding her, he got out of the hospital as quickly as possible, shaking by the time he made it to his Apparition point.

The tremors were too much to handle as Harry quiveringly slid down the wall. Gripping his hair, a guttural cry released from his throat as his breathing intensified. He wished he had a paper bag to breathe in. Ron or Hermione there to tell him that everything was okay. Sirius or Lupin with their calming presence. Anything. Anything from his former life.

* * *

"Twenty quid on the table." A voice shouted as several shots were laid out on the table. "Either take your swirl or bugger off. Money stays."

Harry winced as the boisterous cheers resonated through the dinky bar. Waving the confunded bartender over, Harry gestured to his empty glass to which the man dutifully filled. Taking a sip from the glass, Harry's eyes bulged when his chest swelled with heat while his throat ran parched. Choking, Harry coughed up the strong amber liquid onto the table, garnering the attention of the rowdy bunch occupying the bar counter.

"Oi, Frank! You got a greenie in your bar!" One of the larger men laughed as he swaggered towards Harry.

"He's nineteen, showed me proof." The bartender replied in a addled voice as his eyes squinted in thought.

"Don't look nineteen." Several barstools squeaked against the floorboards as more of the rowdy bunch began to crowd around Harry's seat. "You sure he didn't give you a fake ID? Idiot looks like he still belongs in school."

A hand shoved Harry into the counter, eliciting several laughs from the group as a second someone continuously nudged his shoulder. Harry's hand shot up, catching the irritating hand pushing his shoulder as he glowered at the offending appendage. With a sharp thrust, the man found himself stumbling back before tripping onto the hard wooden floor.

"Will you lot leave me the hell alone." Harry grouched as he stumbled to his feet.

"Hey, we don't take kindly to bullies here." One of the men growled soberly as he aided the man Harry had pushed to the ground.

"Neither do I." Harry scowled as he eyed the now silent bunch surrounding him. "So why don't you and your friends go wet your bollocks somewhere else?"

A fist shot forward from the corner of Harry's vision, battering him onto the ground as his glasses got knocked askew. In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't the best idea to taunt a group of neanderthals but given the shitty day Harry had had, alongside the few sips of alcohol, his filter was already down the shitter.

Shooting out, Harry grasped onto the shin of his surprised target before jerking it forward. With a shout, the man lost his balance as he fell and landed on his tailbone. Unfortunately for Harry, that short moment sparked the mass of others into action. Harry was barely able to get a _Stupefy_ out before a boot connected against his jaw.

Tears materialized in Harry's eyes as a scorching fire blazed across Harry's face. Involuntarily shooting his hand to his cheek as he flexed his jaw in agony, Harry shot a murderous glare from the corner of his eye as he pointed his wand across his chest at his next victim, Harry fired off a _Petrificus Totalus_ before a second kick punted his stomach into his spine, forcing him into a recoil. Twitching on the ground, a hail of punches and kicks rained down upon Harry's body like cracks of thunder. Huddling into a ball, Harry hissed as an inescapable ache began rolled across his back. Clinging to his back like a torturous parasite, the ache hammered its way through his body, intent on shattering his bones. Blood leaked from Harry's lips as his teeth finally pierced the outer covering of his tongue in an effort not to scream. It was only after what seemed like an eternity, that he found himself being hoisted up by his arms before being chucked out of the dismal bar.

"What a little bitch." Harry heard one of the men say before the door shut behind them.

Harry weakly rolled onto his back, away from the curb, as he withdrew his wand before muttering an _Episkey_ on his bleeding mouth. His tongue, warm from the pools of blood building within his mouth, began to swell from a searing heat before fading away, leaving behind only a phantom echo. With a groan of protest, Harry lifted his body from the dirty pavement before shambling into a dark corner.

Apparating to the train station, he limped to a map resting brazenly on the station wall and browsed through it with fatigue. After locating a hotel sitting twenty blocks away, Harry twisted his aching body once more and disapparated away. Landing on his numb feet by the side of the building, Harry hobbled around the corner and to the front entrance, ignoring the doorman who stared at him with a curious eye.

"How may I help you sir?" A receptionist asked, watching in slight concern as Harry tottered to the front desk.

"Um, yes. Do you by any chance have any available rooms for today and tomorrow night? I just got into town." Harry replied, feeling a slight bit of anxiety swirl within his stomach as he wiped away a small smear of blood decorating the corner of his mouth. The man's concern appeared to have increased but he professionally continued forward. "We do have a couple of rooms available, will it just be yourself sir?"

Harry nodded and the man continued, "Very well, may I have your name?"

"Harrison Potter" responded Harry.

"Thank you Mr. Potter, that'll be £132 for the two nights. You are in room 425 on the fourth floor. Breakfast is served from 6:00 to 10:00 a.m." The receptionist informed Harry as he typed away on his computer.

"Wonderful," Harry muttered as he drew his wand. He gave a look around and cast the _Confundus_ charm on the man. The man looked at Harry curiously and Harry informed him that he had already paid and was waiting for his room key. Harry was relieved when the man handed him a card before dismissing him. Stumbling away, Harry quickly located the lifts before punching his floor number in.

It took a few seconds of fiddling with the key to his room when he found it but he was eventually able to make his way inside. After placing the _Do Not Disturb _sign on the door handle to the room, Harry quickly stripped before dropping his knapsack and mokeskin pouches on the table. With effort, he made his way to the loo and immediately turned on the showerhead, drenching himself in the tingly embrace of warm water.

"_Such a disappointment…"_

Harry tried to tune it out, but the whispers still echoed within his ears. Clenching his eyes tightly, he began to scrub hard. Washing away all the blood and imaginary dirt caking his skin. A gasp of breath emerged as his hand drifted down a particularly sore spot on his upper arm. Harry carefully switched arms as he edged away from the sudden shock of pain he had woken.

After his poor attempt to drown himself, Harry dried himself off before limping into bed. Burrowing beneath the heavy blankets, Harry allowed the shadows creeping through his vision to take over as he drifted off into the realm of dreams.

* * *

The ride through the English Channel had been scarier than Harry had expected.

He had faced Dementors, Death Eaters, and a Dark Lord. But this? This was new and absolutely terrifying. Tonnes of water sitting above his head in a glass tunnel as he sat in a metal tube just waiting to be crushed by the sheer aquatic pressure. Harry supposed that the view could have been beautiful but the fact that he was in a high speed train going underwater with no escape except for Apparation was terrifying.

He hadn't stopped feeling tense until the train had arrived in Paris. It was already noon when he arrived so he decided to take advantage of the opportunity and spend the rest of the day sightseeing around the city. He supposed he could understand why Fleur would rave about the beauty of France compared to that of England: the massive metal structure known as the Eiffel Tower, that doubled in beauty at night; the buttery soft loaves of fresh bread with crisp crusts seducing the passersby on the street; the Arc de Triomphe standing proudly over the swarm of cars that circled around it in multiple rotations; the cropped verdant fields of lush grass adorned with the bouquets of flowers and bountiful trees within the Tuileries Garden. They all emanated with a sense of beauty and magnificence that Harry struggled to formulate into words.

He didn't even want to talk about the heavenly gifts known as macaroons. Especially the hand-sized ones that were served in the Louvre. The sweet, soft, velvet texture of the delectable within combined with the crisp skin proved to be, what Harry could only describe in bastardly terms as a cookie sandwich. In the end, pistachio had to be Harry's favorite.

After spending the night in Paris, he had taken a second train to Zürich. Walking around the city with zero sense of direction, Harry was relieved when he found an officer patroling the sidewalk.

"Sir? Sir," Harry waved, garnering the attention of the officer as he crossed the street towards the waiting man. "I was wondering if you knew where I could find the Swiss National Bank?"

"Was?" The officer frowned as Harry repeated his question. It was only when Harry decided to pull out a gold coin did the officer point over Harry's shoulder before speaking in what Harry assumed to be German, "Die Bank, ja?"

Harry turned and saw one of the local banks before turning back to the officer, feeling slightly frustrated, "I need the National Bank, not a local bank."

"Was?" The officer repeated. "Bist du verirrt?"

Now the officer looked confused as Harry began waving his gold coin frantically in desperation for the officer to understand. "Was machst du? Brauchst du hilfe?"

Fortunately for Harry, a friendly passerby noticed the two struggling to communicate. After a brief explanation, the man was able to act as a translator between them. As Harry reached the end of his directions, his eyebrows quirked when he realized that the building in front of him appeared to be that of a large, old-fashioned stone manor instead of a more modern or corporate design. In front, was a stone courtyard with sprouts of water spraying high as kids weaved between the streams, giggling.

Sticking to the side of the courtyard, Harry pulled a shirt out from his knapsack before transfiguring it into a suitcase with a fluent motion of his wand. Hitting the newly created suitcase with an expansion and a feather-light charm, Harry slowly began to pour the galleons from his mokeskin pouches into the suitcase. When his pouches finally emptied, Harry zipped the suitcase up before dragging his luggage across the courtyard and into the building.

The first teller he had approached smiled politely as she directed him to a waiting area. In a few short minutes as Harry twiddled his thumbs, feeling out of place, a young man with brown tousled hair approached him with a civil smile across his lips. Led to a small office, Harry made sure to seat his suitcase in front of him as he sat in the offered chair.

"Guten tag Herr Potter," the tousled hair man spoke as he leaned against his desk. "Is this your first time at the Swiss National Bank?"

His eyes flickered up and down Harry's attire, making Harry feel slightly ashamed of his underdressed apparel. In an effort to seem dignified, Harry straightened in his seat and brushed away his nervousness with a thin veneer of calm. This was quickly waved away when the crease between the man's eyebrows deepened as he stared, unimpressed.

"Yes." Harry said, cursing himself for his stutter. Reaching into his suitcase, Harry pulled out a galleon before placing it onto the desk. "I wanted to make an exchange? I have a good amount of gold passed down to me from my family that I wanted to use."

"I see." The bank official spoke as his interest was piqued by the gold shimmering in front of him. "Tell me Herr Potter, I've never seen this sort of imprint before. Would you mind telling me where it is from?"

Harry blinked. Once, twice, three times as his mind reeled for an answer. His heart began to pound heavily against his ribcage as he met the man's expectant gaze.

"I couldn't tell you." Harry answered as he pinched himself on the wrist in an effort to calm his beating heart. "This is all I received from my parents' will before they died in a car accident. I never had the opportunity to ask."

"Of course, you have my condolences." The man replied as he slightly angled his head in curiosity. "Tell me, are you… American?"

"British," Harry corrected, missing the slight change in the man's voice from the last sentence.

"Oh, I see." Digging beneath his desk, the man withdrew a magnifying glass. "It is quite peculiar. Roman perhaps? No, the style is entirely different. Anglo-Saxon? Viking?" Harry waited patiently for the man to finish. "It is rare that a family's wealth be so consolidated in precious gold." The tousled haired man spoke, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"Call it a surprise to myself as well."

The man nodded before asking Harry to remain as he took the coin to be tested for purity. Filling out the forms handed to him, Harry waited patiently as he eyed the few ornaments and baubles that decorated the room. When the man returned, Harry could see a faint shock in the man's eyes as he settled himself down in his seat.

"Herr Potter, are you aware that this coin contains almost zero impurities? Something that should have been impossible if this coin is as old as I suspect it to be."

Harry shrugged, he had no idea.

"Is this the only piece of gold you have?"

Shaking his head, Harry gestured to the suitcase he had brought with him into the room. Circling around the desk, the man watched as Harry unzipped it to reveal its contents filled to the brim with the strange gold coins.

"Scheisse..." The man swore as he knelt down to examine all the wealth resting in the middle of his office. "You were a very foolish man to be carrying this much to our bank. Next time, you may want to take precautions."

"So can you exchange it?" Harry asked tensely as the man's eyes seemed hypnotized by all the gold resting in front of him.

"Of course." The man said once more. "Though I do suggest you keep your wealth safe in an account with us. Switzerland is a very friendly place but one can never be too cautious."

Harry nodded, allowing for the first true smile to overcome the man's face. "Gut, I will have to draw up a few forms but after, we shall talk business. Commission fees, exchange rates, you understand. Do you have an address, email or mobile number I can contact you with?"

As well as letting his accent shine through his otherwise flawless English, it seemed his excitement has started a round of rapid-fire questions.

A groan escaped Harry's lips as he slumped down in his seat, preparing for a long afternoon.

* * *

**A/N: Hi! Venerance here,**

**I know some of you may become upset about the gold scene we wrote. I'd like to start out by saying, yes, Harry is converting gold he had taken from his vault in Gringotts with the Swiss National Bank. Will it be an obscene amount? No, not at all. Harry will just receive a bit of wealth that still has the ability to run out if he doesn't manage it well. Trust me when I say that I had to fight with Phoenix on lowering the amount of wealth Harry brought in. **

*****_**Glares at Phoenix**_*** "Entire Family vaults of the Potters and Blacks, my ass" ***_**Cough**_*****

**But do remember, Harry is 19. He doesn't fully understand how the Muggle world works despite living in it. All because he doesn't have the same experience an ordinary Muggle child or adult would. So he will make mistakes, he is not God.**

**A/N: Phoenix here,**

**To concerns about how Harry was overpowered in the last chapter by his captors, Harry is by no means a weak wizard. Not at all, however Harry was on the run for quite a while and was malnourished and lacked the alertness he really would have needed to confront a squad of Hit-Wizards. We didn't want Harry to start off as some sort of super OP, he has a ways to go. But we'll get to see him in action soon.**


	3. Chapter III

**Thank you for coming with us this far! We greatly appreciate your feedback. As always, we don't own HP or Marvel. This is a collaborative work between myself and Venerance. We also thank the help of Nauze and Philip Tomarys. To everyone who took time to review the previous chapters, we appreciate it so much! We hope you enjoy it and please R&R!**

**A/N: Venerance here,**

**I wanted to say this before you start reading the chapter. There is a sensitive bit pertaining to the story. Some of you may have personal experience with the event and I am so sorry if you do. But to best gauge proper responses during the event, I located different clips of ground zero to show the different responses people had to the event before fitting it into different categories. All I'm trying to do is highlight human reactions.**

* * *

"Order up!" Came a shout as the expeditor began reading off a small receipt. "One fish and chips!"

"Fish and chips coming right up!" Harry shouted as he began prepping a piece of cod. A light sprinkling of freshly grounded black pepper and salt decorated the white flesh of fish on the countertop as he dredged the meat in batter. "Five minutes!"

Working in a small diner was not something Harry ever pictured himself doing. But at the same time, he didn't regret his choice. It paid the bills, helped maintain a roof over his head, and allowed him easy access to fresh food. While the hours could sometimes become lively and hectic, he always managed to push through.

Harry inwardly chuckled as he allowed his mind to drift while plating the freshly fried chips. What would the Magical World have thought of him, before his condemnation, if they'd discovered he was living in the muggle world in what many would consider a low-end occupation. It didn't speak of status like the Auror corps but he wasn't one to search for attention.

He'd been able to secure the job about six months after he had left Switzerland. That had been an interesting experience. The Swiss National Bank had investigated his claims - standard procedure he assumed, especially when dealing with such an absurd amount of pure gold. The most frustrating part of the process were his personal records. He was a ghost in this world with zero references to either of his parents or to himself. That had been an awkward hurdle to get past, but, after several _Confundus_ charms, they had managed to progress forward.

In the end, they settled for around £700,000 after verifying that the acquisition of gold was legitimate before leaving him to his own devices. Taking a train back to London, he spent the next week looking for a place to live. Hotels were nice but what he wanted was privacy.

Harry was beyond ready to leave as he placed the finished dish on the counter for the wait staff to handle. A weak smile was tossed his way in gratitude as one of the new waitresses exercised several breathing techniques before walking out the door with the dish and a nervous smile. After cleaning his station, Harry bid the rest of the kitchen staff a quick farewell before exiting out the back door.

With a twist of his body, Harry disapparated from the shadowed parking lot.

For the past two years, Harry had been struggling with what to do with his life. He had a new beginning, devoid of anything magical, so what was his goal? What did he want to achieve? Back in his reality, he had everything paved out. Graduate Hogwarts, become an Auror, have a family. The Ministry, however, shot his plans to Sphinx shit, as if they possessed one of those muggle guns he saw Vernon use once. And now he was in some sort of ordinary, _mundane_, reality without anything extraordinary or supernatural in it.

His studying over the past two years did reveal snippets of history that differed from his reality. By far, the most significant was something about a scientific division for Nazi Germany called HYDRA. Apparently, they discovered a source of energy that provided them a technological advantage against the Allied Powers.

But they were extinguished by an Allied commando squad led by someone called Captain America from an SSR? While interesting, the excerpts he did find on the subject while studying for his GCSEs were brief and nonspecific. Harry didn't focus too much of his time on the subject, after all, he was more keen on studying and finishing his GCSEs. With the completion of his tests, he worked on finding an occupation that could keep him from exhausting his entire financial account, which was how Harry found himself working in a small diner as a chef.

The entire situation might have been humorous from an outside perspective. From laurels to rags, his entire life after defeating Voldemort had been a joke. Harry wasn't filled with limitless power like the Wizarding World thought. He was just a teenage boy who had loads of luck and determination in stride. It wasn't even worth mentioning the irregular meals he received while on the run. Heavens forbid, finding half-eaten food in the trash was a godsend when he couldn't risk magic in muggle-controlled areas without the Ministry becoming aware.

Idiots, the lot of them.

As if popping off insane feats of magic were normal after running off a cereal bar he stole two days prior before being captured.

But that was then and this was now. A consistent meal every day and a larger focus to his health and magic had done strides in repairing his body. While he wasn't on the level of Dumbledore, he could now fend for himself with minimal problems.

Harry flicked on the lights in his flat as he ambled to his fridge. Grabbing a bottle of water, he leaned back against the counter and smiled as he chugged down the cool, refreshing liquid. His modest flat wasn't much but Harry gladly considered it to be home. Tossing the empty bottle into the bin, Harry exited the kitchen before taking a seat at his cluttered desk.

Using his spare time to learn the intricacies of his magic from the texts he'd managed to bring from his reality proved to be quite useful. It was a shame he had no access to any sort of magical ingredients when studying potions. The potions he'd been able to create with muggle ingredients, however, were the Calming Draught and Skele-Gro. Both practical but also slightly iresome.

What irked Harry the most was a specific ingredient necessary for the Calming Draught. A crocodile heart. Wallowing about in the swamps of Africa, searching for crocodiles, had to be one of the worst experiences of his life. There was no guilty thrill of adrenaline coursing through his veins from a chase. No, instead, what Harry got was blistering heat, clouds of bugs, and ground so spongy it threatened to swallow his feet. He was an everlasting buffet to the buzzing, tireless cloud of horrors present every second he searched.

The Skele-Gro was normal by comparison, cabbage, scarab beetles, and pufferfish. Two of those being quite odd but not as difficult to acquire.

Other days, Harry would find himself attempting to decipher his mother's journal. Originally, it seemed to belong to someone named Marlene McKinnon, a friend of his mother's. However, it was only a change in handwriting and several vague references that alerted Harry to how the journal came into his mother's possession.

It was safe to say that everything in it was complete babble. At first, Harry thought it to be a diary reporting on the events of the first wizarding war. That train of thought was quickly extinguished. The first few entries were already discussing something about Enertrof's law detailing the polarity of electrical fields and its effects on the diffusion of magic. Even thinking about it gave Harry a headache. He loved his mum, or rather his impression of her, but would it have killed her to help explain everything in layman's terms?

Though, he could tell that his mum and her friend were onto something big. Something that he couldn't fully understand at that very moment. From what he could gather, it pertained to allowing magic to coexist with muggle technology. To the newer generation, a breakthrough would have been revolutionary. Unfortunately, their research was incomplete, leaving Harry to pick up the pieces. Pieces of an incomplete puzzle that he doubted he would be able to piece together even if he understood it all.

Multiple sheets of paper filled with the scribbling of notes littered the walls. Definitions of terms he didn't know, results of tests that proved unsuccessful. He was attempting to pioneer an unknown field of research with sticks and stones and he had never longed more for Hermione's help and knowledge than he did now.

Harry leaned down to pull a small Mars bar out from the drawer on his desk. He needed the comfort after all, as he prepared himself for the oncoming headache. Peeling down the wrapper, the wizard allowed himself to take a bite of the chocolate goodness before glaring hatefully at the journal innocently resting before him.

* * *

"I need two Cornish Pasties and a Steak and Kidney Pie!"

"I got twelve minutes for the pie!" Harry replied as he got to work on the latter.

The diner was absolutely packed, forcing the kitchen to work hastily. Consequently, the quality of the cuisines from the other chefs dwindled while Harry made sure every dish he served was in peak quality. He supposed it didn't hurt that he was softly pushing his magic into the food he was creating.

A commotion outside the kitchen stirred Harry's attention away from his station as he met the confused gazes of the other chefs. One of them joked about how one of the new waiters probably spilled their tray over leading for the rest of the kitchen staff to chuckle as they returned back to their assigned tasks.

Peering at the oven, Harry smiled at the flaky golden-brown crust of the pastry shining in the radiating heat of the oven. Harry slipped on a pair of oven mitts before diving his hands in to withdraw the savory delicacy.

"How long on those Cornish Pasties?" Harry called out as he carefully maneuvered the pie onto a plate before garnishing it.

"Two minutes!" Came the reply as Harry glanced over to the expeditor.

Only to discover him missing.

Shrugging, Harry used the brief window he had to clean his station. He placed his pot into the sink, scrubbing furiously with the sponge as he hosed it down with the pressurized faucet. A bell chime rang as a chef placed the Cornish Pasties onto the shelf alongside Harry's pie.

"Order up!"

There was no answer. No reply. Meeting each other's gaze, the kitchen began to grow quiet as the staff realized that all the sounds that would usually occupy the dining room had fallen silent. Harry called out for the wait staff, waiting for someone to answer only to receive nothing in response. Gesturing to the rest of the staff to wait, Harry untied his apron before heading out the kitchen door.

"Excuse me! Pardon me." Harry yelled over the commotion as he pushed past the crowds of standing people. He tapped the shoulder of a waitress standing abnormally still, only to be assaulted by the most fearful gaze. With a shaky hand, the woman pointed to the telly resting in the corner of the room.

Harry froze the moment his eyes connected to the telly in wide view of everyone.

"James… James Stubbins is there." A voice stuttered from the TV before a shaky inhale could be heard. "James, what are you hearing?"

"I… the air is…" Plumes of smoke aired throughout the screen, filling the skyline with nothing but large clouds of black, grey, and white as a man caked in tan and grey dust wavered unsteadily. "The building just exploded. I-I- I don't know how best to describe it. The police and fire departments took so long to arrive. And- people, people don't know what to do. We don't know what to do. It's hard to breathe. An-and- and, there are people… people jumping. Straight down."

"Can you tell us more?"

"I don't know what to say!" Screamed the television. "What do you want me to say? It's bad, okay? It's worse than bad. People are… terrified! They're- we need more ambulances. So many people are hurt and there is more and more appearing every second. The Earth… the Earth screamed and no one could see anything. I… I don't know why someone would have done this."

A bulge formed in Harry's throat as the man's words jumped everywhere.

"I think… I think the building fell. There were still so many people in it and it just fell… I thought it was a plane at first but it was the tower. And the other one, I can hear it. It wants to fall too. But people keep entering it and even less are leaving. I must have seen… There were two people. Police were evacuating us from the area and there were two. I don't know where they came from but… I can still hear their bodies… there weren't even any parts of them left! Someone told me to get out. I should have left like everyone else."

The camera cut away as a mechanical scream pierced the air. A sharp intake of breath echoed through the microphone before the camera panned down to the street and started shaking. Heavy breathing battered the audio as the camera bounced up and down when, what Harry could only describe as the sound of a heavy thunderstorm, burst through the speaker. Balloons of black charged through the streets, forcing the man that was holding the camera to trip and fall as all the camera's lenses were blinded by the smoke and rubble.

Silence filled both the diner and news studio as the channel switched to a secondary camera overlooking the World Trade Center from a distance. A second window appeared on screen, showing a tornado of smoke arising from something in Washington. The words from the TV began to fade into a blur as Harry stared unblinkingly at the telly. Hundreds dead. Many more unconfirmed. It struck a small chord within him that Harry thought forgotten but the only thing he was able to do at that very moment was watch what was occurring on the live feeds from the telly.

The news decided to switch to another camera where another man was laughing in a deranged sort of disbelief. From the dust and rubble caking his clothes and the beads of sweat shining on his forehead, Harry could only assume that the man was one of the survivors.

"It collapsed. The top floors collapsed down." The old man shouted, taking deep breaths in the dust filled air as he waved his arms around in a frantic motion. "I saw an abrupt blow and ran like hell. Thank God- I'm sixty-nine but I can still run."

The next few days were nothing but a blur, no one seemed to want to watch anything besides the news. To which the news channel dutifully listed the number of casualties throughout the day. The attack haunted not only the entirety of the US but those in Britain as well. People were scared to walk alone, bars saw more business. More people desired to stay home than reporting to work. Each and every day.

Harry had never seen this kind of death before. Magical Britain thought the wars against Voldemort were terrible. But even on the bloodiest days of the war against Voldemort, there was never this large of a death toll. Not throughout the entire span of the Wizarding war. Not in the entire span of both. The news approximated the death toll to be over 2,500 between all three attacks and the plane that went down in Pennsylvania.

It was several days before Harry was able to eat without regurgitating his food.

* * *

It had been two weeks since the attacks and it seemed as if a good part of the world was still frozen in the aftermath. The diner hadn't been doing well and it didn't help that the staff had taken to drinking at work from what they had recently witnessed.

"I'm gonna enlist." One of the chefs spoke as he stared woodenly at the burning flame of the stove. "Shit like that… how long till it happens to us here in Britain?"

"Ay mate." A waiter answered as he placed the dishes onto his tray. "Monsters like that… they don't deserve the gift of life given to them. Filthy fucking animals…"

Harry looked up to see the pools of rage warring in their eyes before allowing his gaze to drift downcast once more. Animals… he thought it to be too kind of a term. For people like the terrorists reported on the TV, for people like Voldemort? Harry only had one word to describe them.

Parasites.

* * *

"Name?"

"Harry Potter."

The enlistment officer's eyes flickered upwards to the kid standing in front of him. He was young, given. The plain clothes and scrawny build did nothing to appease the boy's appearance.

"Kid," the officer finally said as he placed down his clipboard. "I'm all for young men like you supporting Queen and country but do you understand what you are doing?"

"I do."

"War isn't pretty, son." The officer continued, attempting to drive his point into the boy. "We need men. I cannot, in good health, ask for you to volunteer. They would trample all over you."

The kid turned his head to the side as he shuffled his feet nervously. The man had seen it happen all the time. People loud and boisterous demanding to sign up during times of crisis only to discover that they had quit halfway through basic. Most of the time they were naive, young, full of heart and spirit. All to be finished quickly when they entered reality. Those that managed to make it through never came back the same.

"Son, I don't mean any harm. It's just what I believe I'm seeing right now is bravado."

"It's not bravado…" the kid finally spoke, refusing to reconnect their gazes. "I have a reason."

"Everyone does." The recruiter answered as he peered at the boy. "But reasons aren't reasons if it's imitation."

* * *

"You get your lazy arse off my platform and jump, Potter! Move it!"

A hand gripped Harry from behind his neck before thrusting him into the muddy pool of water sitting in front of the platform. Assaulted by the thick murky water swimming up his nose, Harry kicked himself to the surface, bursting forth as he coughed up mouthfuls of water. Wiping his eyes, Harry kicked towards the mushy earth in front of him where he could crawl onto land.

"Stop wasting my time, cadet!" Another instructor yelled as he pointed towards the low hanging barbed wire. "Show me the reason you're here or get the fuck off my obstacle course!" Cocking a pistol, he began firing blanks into the dirt as Harry scurried on his hands and knees beneath the square patterns of barbed wire. He was sure the methods these military instructors were using had to be illegal somewhere.

But it didn't matter. He had a reason for being here. And he was ready to prove it.

* * *

"Isn't that what you wanted, sir?" Harry asked as he stared at the stern visage on the head D.I.'s face. "Accomplishing the mission?"

"It's not about finishing, cadet," the instructor answered after a moment of silence. Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, the D.I. pointed towards the panting cadets ringing the bell on top of the wooden beam "It's about how you finish. Sometimes, it's better to lose than win."

The D.I. walked away, leaving Harry to stare at the man's back in disbelief and confusion. He was sure that the man would have never said that if he understood what happened to the Wizarding World. What Voldemort did to the Wizarding World.

The team he was paired up with shot him glares filled with hate as they clambered up the wooden beam. Each ringing the bell as they came in last.

He went to bed with an empty stomach that night with a large bruise forming on his cheek.

"You lot have one objective!"

The wind howled outside the metal hull of the transport helicopter. Strapped into the seats, the cadets watched as the lead drill instructor hooked himself onto one of the railings above before taking up position near the back end of the aircraft.

"You have seventy-two hours to reach the rendezvous. If you are not there by then, you're hiking back," Harry's grip tightened against his harness as the instructor's eyes landed on him. Hazel burrowing into fern. "This is life or death gentlemen. Beneath your seats, each of you have a pack filled with supplies. Inside, each of you have pieces of a map that leads to the pickup. The rest of the gear is up to you. Is that clear?"

A chorus of "Yes sir!" reverberated through the Chinook. Throughout it all, Harry maintained eye-contact with the lead drill instructor, refusing to back down. Eventually, the grizzled turned away.

Afterwards, a surprising nudge was felt against his right side. With a sparkle in his neighbor's eyes, a silent message was communed between the two as Harry's neighbor jerked his head towards the river passing by outside before nodding further down the row. A grin slowly emerged across Harry's lips as he began passing the message along.

The helicopter lowered to the ground where it dropped off its first cadet, a young lad who still held onto a hint of baby fat within his cheeks. When the helicopter began to dust off from the forest floor, the cadet turned around and gazed upon the expecting class. A brief hesitation was all it took for the boy to turn around to eye his fellow companions. Before the boy faded away into the swallowing night, Harry managed to glimpse him giving a nervous nod to the chopper as he bounded away into the midst of the looming trees.

So on it went, the helicopter dropping off various cadets at different locations and Harry was soon dropped off at his. Making sure he had his entire pack with him, Harry stepped off of the mechanical bird. He ducked his head as the helicopter took off once more, leaving him in a small clearing. He immediately looked towards where he'd seen the river as they were coming in to land. It was just beyond a small copse of trees.

Hefting the bulky backpack against his shoulders, Harry began trekking in the vague direction he remembered the river being. The forest seemed to consume every sound emitted from Harry as he cursed the thorny bushes and shrubs in his path.

"Potter," Danbury's face was adorned with that unbearable smirk that seemed to piss off each of the drill sergeants.

"Danbury," Harry responded, nodding towards the knife. "You should put that away before you stab yourself with it."

The boy scowled at Harry but stopped twirling the knife. Out of the woods behind Harry, a few more of the cadets crawled into the clearing. They all had their packs up and Harry pulled out his map piece.

"It's a damn puzzle." Danbury snorted as he slipped his map piece out of his pocket.

"Like the D.I. said, we each have a piece." Harry replied as he laid his piece on a large boulder. "Is this everyone?"

"I think so…" His companion answered. A soundoff went through the group before Danbury turned back with a shrug.

A stream of map pieces were handed to Harry. Some didn't belong, others were replicas, but eventually Harry managed to piece together a complete map. Using their surroundings, Harry managed to point out a general location of where they were currently before pointing out the circled portion of the map.

"That's impossible." One of the cadets said as she glimpsed over Harry's shoulder. "Our packs must weigh over forty kilos! There is no way we will get to the evac zone in time."

Harry was tempted to use his wand to cast a feather-light charm on everyone's pack but it would attract too many questions. Questions that he didn't want to answer.

"Everyone unload their packs, let's see what we're working with."

The assembled group of cadets grumbled in relief as they spilled their pack's contents all over the forest floor. Piles of metal canteens, pots and pans, clothes, compasses, books, tents, cans of food, and more littered the ground. Harry could even spot the handle of a gun within the mess.

"Grab the canteens." Harry ordered as he sorted the mess into separate piles. "Compasses, lighters, first-aid kits and food."

"What about the gun?"

"Do we have ammo for it?" Harry questioned. An empty click sounded through the riverbed. Snorts of amusement broke out amongst the group as the cadet tossed the handgun to the side in annoyance.

Looking back into the pile, Harry kicked a copy of the full works of Shakespeare to the side. Why the instructors decided to include that, he didn't know. What mattered at this moment was getting to the objective area in an efficient and timely manner; that everyone got there safe and sound.

"Let's move." Harry called out as the group assembled. "We're burning daylight."

"Uh, sir? It's night…" A grimace crossed Harry's lips as he was unofficially promoted as de-facto squad leader.

"Can it, Jenkins."

Laughs echoed amongst the group as they began their hike up the river. They would get through this - together.

It wasn't till hours later did they find themselves setting up camp beneath the foliage of the forest. Several cadets patrolled the makeshift camp as guards to ward off potential wild animals. After a quick meal in which everyone ate from cans, the group at last decided to rest. The food, however, decided otherwise. A groan escaped Harry's throat as he remembered the books left behind.

He didn't know when the forest turned to mountainous terrain, but what he and the rest of the group could agree on was that their feet and legs were in agony. Whether it was the pins and needles prodding every movement or numbing ache that soared through their legs, it was Hell. The sun sinfully blared down at their unprotected faces as they reached the mountain pass. Taking lead through their journey, Harry made sure to guide his group safely through the challenges they encountered. A pack of wolves, dehydration, fatigue. Harry made sure to push his fellow cadets past their limits. He wouldn't give up on them.

As the sun set and moon rose, Harry found himself staring out at the rendezvous. He could see it. Lights flashing around a small clearing where the silhouette of a chinook waited patiently, They were all resting at the foot of the mountain pass.

But he didn't push his fellow men and women. They still had time. Cheers emanated from the group as they clinked their cans of lukewarm soup and pasta together in celebration. A can found itself being pushed into his hands causing Harry to look up in shock.

"You did it, Potter."

A smile slowly broke out across Harry's face as he watched the woman beside him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she flashed a small grin his way.

"You should be celebrating with the rest of us. We're almost there."

"Almost." Harry pulled out as he returned his gaze to the evac zone. "We're not there yet."

"Ever the pessimist," the woman tilted her head back as she drained her can of soup. "Cheer up, unless the instructors decide to throw something unorthodox on the way down, we are all getting out of here with time to spare."

"You guys did well," a nudge against his right side caused both of them to chuckle. Taking a sip from the can, Harry caught the smirk of the woman besides him.

"_We_ did well."

The morning after was cheery as the group quickly packed up their belongings. As they marched down the mountain trail, a cadet began to break out in a song.

Soon, the entire company joined him to pass the time as they clambered down a small ledge. Harry's throat never bayed louder as they sang about a girl waiting for her family of marines to return home.

That was until a crack mentioning something about a guy wishing he was a sailboat and ladies being the wind led to howls of laughter as the women in the group jeered and punched the laughing man. Harry couldn't help chuckling at this as they neared the end of the rocky terrain. Weaving between the large stone croppings, the group finally reached the edge of the forest where the outline of the chinook could be spotted through the trees.

"All right, let's leg it gents!" Harry hollered out to the group. "Our pickup is just past these trees. We're almost home!"

Picking up their speed, the group was able to ignore the blistering pains in their legs and feet as adrenaline and exhilaration took over. Powering through the last hurdle in their path to salvation, the group cheered when they broke through the forest into the clearing where all the drill instructors were waiting.

"About time," the head D.I. grunted as he counted the cadets entering the helicopter. "I don't believe I ever said grouping up was an option."

"You didn't say it wasn't," Harry retorted, standing at attention in front of him as he waited for his company to file in.

A glint in the D.I.'s eyes had Harry blooming with satisfaction. He did it, he belonged.

"That's almost everyone." The head D.I. spoke as he nodded to his subordinates. Harry froze as he turned to look at the ramp leading into the helicopter.

"Sir?"

"We're missing two more," the grizzled man said, answering Harry's unspoken question. "Time is almost up and if they aren't back at sunset, then they are walking back."

The D.I. stepped onto the ramp of the helicopter before gesturing Harry to follow. But Harry didn't move a single step. His head was fixated on the forest.

"Cadet!" The Senior D.I. barked out as he motioned to the chinook. "Fall in!"

"Negative, sir." Harry replied as he took several steps away from the chopper, "We still have men out there."

"Are you willing to risk graduation in hopes of finding two more out there?" The D.I. questioned in disbelief. "You realize that when you don't return in time, you will not graduate with the rest of the class."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered as he reached the tree line. "Like you said, sometimes it's better to lose than win. No man left behind."

A shout for Harry to return burst through the clearing as Harry rushed into the forest. He had no intent on returning. There was a mission and he was expected to follow. Except this time, he was going to bring everyone home. Everyone.

When he was out of sight, Harry Disapparated. Reappearing on the mountain pass, Harry cast a _Homenum Revelio_. The response was negative, forcing Harry to scowl. Apparating further back, Harry continued his search. It was inefficient. But if the two never managed to meet up with the rest then word must have not spread to them. The search continued on for several hours, but Harry pushed forward.

By sunset, Harry was exhausted. Perhaps it was irrational, ridiculous, to assume he could find two people in the middle of the wilderness. A final apparition had him appearing further up the river, in a fjord. Casting the revealing charm once more, a shout of triumph almost escaped when he received two short pings.

Grabbing purchase against cliff side walls, Harry shifted along the side of the fjord. Step by step he inched down the river. Rocks shifted beneath his hands and feet. Through the flow of the river, Harry could faintly hear the voices of the missing cadets. Shouts of relief echoed through the valley as the outlines of the absentees came into view.

"You both… went in the opposite direction." Harry panted as he dropped onto the white pebble beach.

Groans elicited from the two as they dusted themselves off.

"How would you know?" One of them asked as she buried her face in her hands. Dragging them downward, the woman rolled her eyes at the nod given to her before slumping down against a large boulder.

"I was at the pick-up." Harry answered slowly, drawing looks of disbelief from the two. "Can't leave any man or woman behind."

"Are you crazy?" The woman's partner finally spoke. "You missed your chance in graduating to find two people that you barely know. Two people in the wilderness that you somehow, _somehow,_ managed to find."

"Chandar has a point," dusting her knees off, the woman steadily rose to her feet as she strode towards Harry. "You are absolutely, irrationally, insane. There was absolutely no reason for you to search for us. You jeopardized your only chance because of two people you don't even _know_."

"Well, I suppose I did," brows furrowed in response but Harry refused to back down. With a sigh, the woman picked up her pack before gesturing for her partner to do the same.

"Tsang." She spoke as the three began edging along the cliff walls out of the fjord. "Might as well refer to me by last name instead of 'cadet'. I doubt we will graduate, anyways."

The hike around to the mountain range took the entirety of the night. Making their way to the previous campsite of Harry's first venture, the group found their shoulders burdened with sorrow when they found the clearing clear of any military markings. It was a fleeting hope.

"I suppose the D.I. wasn't joking when he said we would be hiking back." Chandar hummed as he rubbed his fatigued eyes.

"Oh, what joy." Tsang joked sarcastically.

"It's just another test," the two looked at Harry in bewilderment as he stared out at the rising sun. "We need to head east.

"East?"

"We're making our way back to base," gripping one of the stones on the mountain pass, Harry chucked it into the horizon. "I'm not going down there to wait for someone to pick us up and tell us we failed. We're marching back so they can say it to our face."

"Ooh-rah" came the half-hearted cheer as the tired trio made their way down the mountain pass.

* * *

"I told you that you wouldn't graduate with the rest of the class when you didn't return."

Harry nodded as he watched his two partners being led away from him. The man sighed as he patted Harry on the shoulder. "I understand that the path has been difficult. Not many make it through. And not being able to graduate with the rest of your class at the end is worse."

"Are you going somewhere with this, Mendez sir?" Harry asked as he stared glumly at his feet.

"If you were still in my care, I would have you running laps until you collapse of dehydration." The D.I. continued, his grip on Harry's shoulder tightening. "Then I would pick you up and toss you back on the trail to have you run even more until you beg me for mercy."

"Ah…" Harry answered as his face flushed red with a hint of shame.

"You'll make a good leader Potter. Welcome to the British Royal Marines."

Harry's jaw dropped.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, but we hope you enjoyed it. Updates will roughly be about twice per month. **

**Venerance: I would have really liked to flesh out the journey back but I know that many of you would like to see us start touching the MCU. But I did put a few easter eggs in the story if you guys look closely. Some of you may get it off the spot, others may not. Otherwise, I hope you all enjoyed it!**


	4. Chapter IV

**Here goes Ch. IV! We of course don't own HP or Marvel. They belong to Rowling and Marvel respectively. This is a collaborative work between myself and Venerance. We also thank the help of Nauze and Philip Tomarys. Enjoy and R&R!**

**Venerance: Cheers to "TheShardsOfDarkness2138" for figuring out one of the easter eggs I planted in III. One (technically two) still continues in this chapter. If you find it (them) then here's a cookie for your efforts (::)! If you haven't, then I'll make sure to tell you guys what it is next chapter. **

* * *

"Shit, shit! Heavy fire on our left flank!" Harry called out as he ducked behind the ruins of the crumbled wall. "Tsang! Shore it up!"

A sharp crack and loud scream burst through the air as Chandar turned his attention to their six. It was just them left. The original squad that was sent to patrol the town in the Kunar province disappeared and Harry's team was sent to investigate.

They found them alright.

Presented with copious amounts of blood and bullets. Stripped of weaponry, clothes, and ammo. Left in the open streets of the town as the town's militia and citizens jeered at their bare corpses. The entire squad was portrayed like an exhibit in a zoo as a sort of accomplishment. When the crowds spotted Harry and his squad approaching, they dispersed, giving them a clear view of the dead bodies.

It was a mess. Taking their bodies down from their poles, it was only luck which stopped them from being completely executed. As Harry lifted his first body off the pole and down in the structure across the street, he caught a fleeting glimpse of two men rushing into a nearby building. This wouldn't have originally disturbed him, but the weapons banging against their thighs did.

Looking to the windows, Harry searched the empty abysses until a certain green object had his eyes widening in terror. Following the general direction the weapon was pointed at, had him panicking.

"Tags, Hoyer!"

Their confused looks would be burned in Harry's memory as an unseen rocket flew into the ground beneath them. A wave of his arm had a shimmering _Protego_ beginning to form in front of him before the shockwave of the blast tossed them into the walls of the property behind them.

"Tsang, Chandar, status!" Harry coughed out as he shifted the rubble off his body. Shouts of acknowledgement reverberated past the ringing in Harry's ears. Stepping onto the street, Harry began focusing his weapon on the mobs of people slowly entering the street.

"Back! Get back!" Harry yelled at the approaching crowd.

They didn't stop. While some looked hesitantly at Harry's weapon, the rest began shouting in unison. Jeers and cries echoed from the rabble as stones flew towards him.

"Don't do it… don't do it…," muttered Harry as he watched several members in the crowd brandishing black market weapons. Casting a quick glance behind him, he watched as the remaining members of his squad dragged the corpses into the building.

A crack forced Harry to stumble back. Narrowing his eyes at the one who shot at him. Harry pressed the trigger.

That was the beginning of how Harry found himself in this absolute hellhole.

As Chandar went to check the person caught in Tsang's trap, Harry began focusing on reinforcing his section of the building. It was just the three of them left, Tsang, Chandar, and Harry. The other two in their squad were instantly killed from the impact of the rocket.

"LT! We need support, stat!" Tsang called out as she ejected an empty magazine from her rifle. The building shook as several bullet holes appeared in the building's walls, forcing them to duck down.

"This is Juliet One, repeat, this is Juliet One," Harry shouted as he opened a line to command. "We have two men down. Enemy count is unknown. Our situation is completely FUBAR. Requesting ground and air support immediately!"

"Lieutenant, what is your current location?"

"The closest village to the southeast, Bravo team's last known location." Explosions shook the building as Harry rolled away from the pile of rubble. "We aren't going to last long here, we need immediate support _now_!"

A silence filled the line before the recipient at the end of the line sighed.

"Roger, Juliet One, mark your position with colored smoke for air support. ETA, six minutes."

Harry threw up a _Protego_ just in time to catch a hail of bullets bombarding his position. Now wasn't the time for subtlety. This was a life or death situation. With enemy militia surrounding their building as they hid amongst the panicking civilians, Harry and his team couldn't afford to fire needlessly.

"_Reparo_! _Bombarda!_" The car on the street exploded into flames, pelting militia and rowdy civilians with shrapnel alike. Simultaneously, the pile of rubble in front of Harry began restructuring itself back into a wall.

"Four tangos in the building behind us," Chandar spoke as he crawled back through the doorway. "Tsang's traps caught a few trying to sneak into the building. Doesn't seem like it will stop them for long, though."

"Cover the doorway then, Mark," Harry growled as he shakily withdrew a magazine from his vest. "We need to hold out until air support arrives."

"How long?"

"Four minu- GET DOWN!" Harry scrambled away from the wall and tackled the teenager to the ground as the entire wall blew into smithereens.

"Laser guided rockets?" Tsang shouted in disbelief as she scuttled away from her source of cover. "How the hell does a militia have that sort of weaponry?"

"I don't know…," came Harry's reply as he turned his gaze back to the invisible wall that held the attention of the translucent red dot. "We need to get a smoke out, cover me!"

Harry found purchase against the building's walls as he stumbled to his feet. Keeping one hand against the building, Harry popped a canister off his backpack strap and leaned out beside the structure's damaged hull. Dust swirled against his grimed face as he chucked the smoke grenade onto the roof.

A scream pierced Harry's lips as several crackles and pops filled the air. Tripping over his own feet, Harry fell on his back as he clutched at the open wound on his stomach.

"Lieutenant!"

Tsang staggered towards Harry's position, firing streams of bullets at any man or woman holding a weapon. Howls burst from his chest as Harry was dragged away from the open exposure to the building. Each movement seemed to strain, stretch, and tear his bleeding wound.

"Damnit, damnit," Tsang cursed as she positioned Harry further inside the building. "Chandar. Fucking hell, MARK! Get over here!"

The royal marine hobbled into the room only to pause when he saw Harry whimpering against the wall.

"Check those dead bodies!" Tsang ordered as she pointed to their deceased teammates and the recovered bodies of the team before them. "Find a first-aid kit, bandages, morphine, anything!"

"Wait," Harry gasped as he shuffled further up the wall. "Wait. Chandar, cover us. Make sure no one sneaks up." Ignoring the look on his teammate's face, Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve and pointed the tip at the hole in his stomach. "_Accio_… _Accio_ bullet."

A sharp gasp escaped from both Tsang and Harry's lips as the bullet flew into his hand. Harry leaned his head back in agony as the sudden exposure to air filled the void within. "_Episkey_."

It was a gamble. He only used the charm on minor injuries such as cuts and nosebleeds. For something this major? Harry could only pray. Closing his eyes, Harry kept whispering the healing charm until he felt the satisfying flush of heat arising in his abdomen.

"_Episkey… Episkey…_"

"Tsang," a call came from the adjourning room. "Is the LT stable?"

"Yes…," Tsang's bewildered voice spoke. "He's good."

"Good, because they're waving a flag out there. Don't recognize it as Al-Qaeda."

Shooting Harry a confused look, the woman backed away before exiting the room. Harry sighed as he gripped the L85 slung across his chest. It was out. He wasn't trying to hide it but now someone knew. He trusted Tsang to cover his back in a firefight. He trusted Tsang to make the calls he couldn't. But he didn't know if he could trust her with the revelation of magic.

While he knew he wasn't an expert at hiding magic, he did a decent enough job covering its existence - from both the civilian and military worlds. The discreet uses in shielding against gunfire and shrapnel already drew enough suspicion but his restraint had managed to keep it from blowing out of hand.

Pushing himself to his feet, Harry began walking outside the room and to the next one. Entering the connecting room, Harry found his teammates lying prone on the rubble casted floor as they fired bursts into the crowds below.

"I need a sit-rep," Harry hissed as he weakly slid onto the floor behind them.

"Crowds are still violent," Chandar dutifully reported. "Got a flag. Red. A series of black rings surrounding two crossed swords. Don't recognize it."

"Copy that. How long till air support arrives?"

"Too long. We got two techies to the East," Chandar answered as he popped a fresh magazine into his SMG. "People are still swarming around the building. If they are smart, they will all rush up those stairs but for some reason, they are holding back. Almost as if they don't know where the entrance is."

An unseen smirk flitted across Harry's lips but he refused to comment.

"Juliet One, do you read? Juliet One."

The group briefly turned their attention to the radio sitting, almost forgotten, in the corner of the room. Crawling over to the small device as the voice repeated itself once more, Harry grabbed ahold of it before shuffling against the wall. "This is Juliet One, over."

"Juliet One, this is Cherry One." The voice responded. "We've spotted your smoke and are heading to your position right now. ETA one mike."

"Copy that, over and out."

Over the midst of gunfire and shouts, Harry could hear the faint recognizable sound of blades cutting through the air. Another loud crack resonated from downstairs, drawing Harry's attention away from the arriving relief. Bucking his rifle against his chest, Harry leaned out the doorway and spotted two armed militia struggling to help a third from the iron jaws of one of Tsang's traps. Pointing his rifle downward, he released a torrent of metal rounds into the surprised throng.

"Air support is here, boys!" Tsang called out as she withdrew from her firing position. Shooting a strange look towards Harry, she began jogging down the stairwell. Exchanging glances, both Harry and Chandar decided to follow. Stepping into the street, Harry found himself face to face with a line of Little Birds landing on the street, depositing fresh U.S. and British troops.

Gunshots sounded all around the block as the militia was routed back. Clearing alleys, streets, and buildings, the mass of troops established a secure perimeter around the transports. An U.S. Apache provided air superiority overhead, protecting the ground forces from any rooftop assault. Shots from the suburbs bounced off the hull of the aircraft as it began firing its chain gun into the distance.

"It's okay Lieutenant, we'll take it from here," One of the U.S. marines spoke as he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"It was just supposed to be a routine patrol for the men before me," Harry replied tiredly as he pointed to the structure behind him. "They were good men. My soldiers were good men. They all deserve a letter home to their families after what just happened."

The soldier met Harry's glare with a silent nod. "And they'll get it." Waving to several soldiers, the marine gestured for the troops to enter the building.

"Sir?"

Harry glanced at Tsang's raised eyebrow as she waited expectantly for him. Breaking away from the U.S. marine, Harry approached his waiting friend. The stern glare from her brown eyes and the downwards quirk of her lips had Harry exhaling in acceptance.

"Later, Tsang." Harry said as he turned to watch the soldiers loading the deceased British marines into the small helicopters. "Later."

A stiff nod came from the woman as she pivoted on her feet and marched to the helicopter Chandar was occupying. Harry bowed his head in respect as marines passed by him, carrying the deceased men in tow.

It was supposed to be a routine scout patrol.

Instead, they had an entire army of insurgents camping in close proximity to the airfield. Waiting for a moment to strike. How could intelligence not have noticed this?

Clambering onto the Little Bird, Harry waved for the pilot to take off. A nod and thumbs up had the entire aircraft tilting forward as it swirled around.

It was a brutal morning.

* * *

"So…," Harry rubbed the back of his head in discomfort as he met the expectant gaze of the woman in front of him. They were squared away in the corner of the armory with strong privacy spells erected to prevent listeners of any kind. Harry was resting on a table while Tsang was leaning against the wall. For her part, Tsang was looking for all appearances to be in full control of her emotions and of the situation as a whole. She met his gaze resolutely, arms firmly set across her chest as her foot impatiently tapped against the floor.

"I guess I should start from the beginning then?" He asked.

Tsang merely nodded, eliciting a sigh from Harry. Scratching the back of his head, Harry turned his head away from his partner to glare at the bare armory walls. The situation would have arisen sooner or later. The fact that it didn't come up the past year was a miracle itself. Who would theorize magic when nothing perceivable to the mortal eye protected them from potential danger? It would just be passed off as absurd luck.

He wasn't stupid enough to shield someone with a _Protego_ if they ran headfirst into enemy machine-gun fire. Too many questions. Too many eyes that may come his way, too much attention. No, he was satisfied in using his magic discreetly. Shields against nearby explosions, surprise _Reductos _and _Bombardas _when no one was watching, confundus charms against the unaware, unsuspecting, relatively small things that no one would bother scrutinising.

Slip ups could occur, after all.

"I don't remember the exact moment I discovered this… strange ability," Harry lied as he kept his expression blank. "Small cuts… bruises… all seemed to heal in a matter of minutes when they should have taken longer."

His eyes flitted to Tsang's but her face remained hard. Not even a hint of shock or disbelief fluttered through her stone-cold facade. She was his partner but he couldn't tell her the truth. Not the full truth. Only hints, smidgens. If word spread, he would find himself becoming a tool once more.

"It terrified me… but, I also found myself curious," Tsang's eyes narrowed as Harry struggled to continue his somewhat false story. "Dark bruises that should have lasted for days disappeared overnight. Paper cuts vanished in minutes. I thought maybe I was blessed. That something or someone blessed me to be this way."

"But why bless me with these abilities only to place me in an unloving environment?" The question caused the woman's eye to twitch but no further reaction followed.

"Respectfully sir…," Tsang said as she pushed off the wall and leaned closer to Harry. "That's bullshit and you know it."

Harry stilled as a hand came to rest upon his shoulder. With every passing second, her grip seemed to grow tighter and tighter. Squeezing his shoulder until it was locked in an ironclad hold.

"There's more to it, sir," Tsang breathed as she pierced Harry's eyes with her own. "Flashes. Glimpses of what I thought to be a trick of the light. Hallucinations. How nearby explosions almost never seemed to harm us. Why we never seem to run out of mags in a firefight. You had something to do with that. I know it."

"Do you?" Harry asked as he glared at his second. "Do you honestly believe I had a hand in everything?"

Thoughts raced across his mind miles per second. It was almost too much. She was close. She was so close. A slight gust of wind could propel her into grasping everything she wanted to know.

Tsang hesitated, her eyes warring with shaken conflict beneath her cool mask. Closing her eyes, Tsang released a long exhale through her nose before she faced him with a newly resolved countenance.

"_Yes_."

"Well, you're wrong," Harry growled as he shot forward, his face inches away from Tsang's own. "Tina, I wish I could confirm your beliefs but it's not me. What you saw yesterday, that's the extent of what I can do."

"So that's it, huh?" Tsang scowled as she stepped away from him. "Two years. Two years we fought together yet you still refuse to tell me the truth. All because you don't trust me."

"It's not like that."

"_Not like that_, he says," Harry ignored her scoffing as he watched her press down on the pistol in her holster. "What is it then, Lieutenant? You think that after two years, I can't tell if you're lying or not? I can assure you that I can. You can fool others but you can't fool me. Your eyes always seem to shake when you lie. It's never a steady gaze."

"Tsang…," Harry warned as he watched her hand twitch. "Let the weapon go."

"Tell me the truth sir. You can do more, can't you?"

Harry wavered. He knew a decision was being offered to him. Logic ruled what was necessary to say. But, as he stared at the back of his friend, he knew that option wasn't possible. Tsang was dutiful. And she was loyal. But for the loyalty she gives, she expects it equally in return. He had to choose. He would either lose a friend who had his back from the beginning, or a secret he wasn't ready to reveal would be unveiled, something that the world may not be ready for. He knew what Hermione would choose. But then again, he wasn't Hermione.

"Yes."

Tsang remained silent but her hand moved away.

"You can't tell anyone… please," Harry relented as he slumped down against the lockers. "You don't understand, if people found out… if they knew."

"Government positions aren't exactly the best place to hide," Tsang spoke, pointing out a hole in Harry's logic.

"No." A sarcastic chuckle escaped Harry's throat as he burrowed his head into his arms. "It's definitely not. But sometimes, saving others is worth more than personal wants. I have a responsibility to do just that."

"A responsibility," Tsang repeated as she finally turned around. "Wouldn't it be better to inform the higher-ups about your… powers? To save more people?"

"I _will not _be a tool," Harry hissed as his head sharply rose from his arms. "Every choice I make is mine and mine alone. To everyone else, I am just a simple soldier. But if people knew, how many would try to use me? Truly use me? How long until it turns from saving others to serving personal desires? No, it's better to do this my way. As long as I am in the military, I have the ability to save those that need saving. When we are deployed, I choose who to kill, who to save. If I can help prevent any more deaths, then I will. And as long as I serve some form of government, I will be privy to what they know and do."

A silence rang out through the empty armory until Tsang released a sigh.

"Bet you wish it was Chandar," a small smile broke across Harry's lips as Tsang changed the topic. Grasping her offered hand firmly, Harry found himself yanked to his feet. "Whole conversation would've been avoided."

"Chandar's smart but he doesn't deal with uncertainties."

"Don't I know it," Tsang huffed.

* * *

"Who are they?"

Harry gestured to the men exiting the modified humvee outside the gym. Chandar looked up to spot the soldiers before snorting.

"Excalibur patch on their arms says it all," Chandar spoke as he splashed his face with cold water. "SAS. Best of the best. Should've been obvious."

Harry flushed as he pulled his gloves on. The kid spoke as if their emblem was recognizable to all that saw it. Perhaps it was, to military to civilian words alike. But to Harry? It was completely unfamiliar. The emblems he did recognize were the ones for the DMLE, the Auror office, Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts. But in the muggle world, the non-magic? He was lost. Grunnings, Dudley's gaming system, the logo on the stove in the Dursley's kitchen. Those were what Harry was familiar with.

Harry knew his isolation stunted his knowledge on the muggle world. He grew up with the Dursleys, he learned from them. But any self-taught exposure to the muggle world was subsumed by his experiences in the Magical world. And now? With his reality gone and him trapped in this new one, all his hard-earned knowledge was useless and he had found himself completely lost.

Educational training in basic might have gone over this, but Harry did his best to wipe his memories of basic,they were some of the most hellish months of his life. Auror training couldn't even compare. Pugil sticks, boxing, and CQC training did have a better way of teaching him to survive in close quarters compared to what he was given in Auror training.

"_If they are close and you lose your wand, you jump them, boy! Tackle them to the ground and take their wand! A wizard without their wand is a dead wizard."_

Aurors would have never survived in close quarters against the marines.

"What exactly do they do?" Harry questioned further as he observed his fellow marines backing away from them in either fear or respect.

"Hostage rescue, counter-terrorism, covert assault," Chandar listed as he eyed the approaching group. "Heard of the Iranian Embassy Siege in London? Twenty-six people taken as hostage by terrorists. SAS came in and managed to rescue all but one. "

"Impressive," Harry whistled as his attention was now fully tuned to the SAS soldiers. "Why not help us out in the frontlines?"

"Waste of resources," Chandar replied as he hopped back into the ring. "Those men can finish a battle before it even starts. Send a single SAS squad behind enemy lines and come morning? An entire platoon of soldiers or city of civilians will be saved."

"So… assassins?"

"Somewhat," Chandar shrugged. "This is general knowledge we learned in basic- what am I saying, you were probably daydreaming during those classes."

Harry turned away to disguise his flushed face of shame. The instructors drilled what was supposed to be interesting into hour long lectures on the superiority of the British military. It reminded him of Binn's lectures of the goblin rebellions.

"So what would you call them? Heroes?" Harry asked.

Chandar shrugged as he clapped his gloves together. "Why? Interested?"

"You could say that," Harry hummed. Placing his helmet back on his head, Harry swung over the ropes until he was standing opposite of his subordinate. "What are they doing here?"

Chandar paused. Casting a gaze to the left and right, the kid turned to Harry with a serious expression on his face.

"You didn't hear it from me," Chandar warned as he spoke in a hush whisper. "Rumor has it that they are here because of the unknown faction we met two weeks ago. The outpost near Farah was said to be attacked by them. Using sophisticated weaponry. Weaponry on par to the military's own."

"What?"

"Armor piercing rounds, tank missiles, magnetized grenade launchers," Chandar hissed. "Weaponry terrorists _shouldn't _have, some of the soldiers think that a weapons manufacturer like Hammer Industries is supplying them, but there is no proof."

"Hammer Industries?" Harry questioned.

"Company owned by some weapons genius who helps manufacture weapons for the U.S. government," the two royal marines chuckled softly.

"So, are members of the SAS hand-picked?" Harry asked, attempting to steer the conversation back on topic.

"No," Chandar threw a punch to test the waters as Harry easily leaned away from the swing. "You just need to file an application. After applicants are accepted, they are subjected to something as close to Hell as you can get. Details are hazy but I do know that many have died during training. Still interested?"

"Maybe…"

Harry ducked as Chandar followed up his barrage of punches with two swift jabs to his head. Swiping low, Harry decked Chandar in the stomach before a knock into the jaw sent the boy stumbling back. A curse escaped his lips as he spat a splotch of blood outside the boxing ring. Readjusting his headset, the boy tossed Harry a quick glare before darting back to engage Harry once more.

"You're crazy," Chandar gritted out through his clenched teeth as he absorbed a blow to the chest. "Or suicidal. Still deciding on which."

"Are you sure this is what you want to do, Lieutenant?"

The officer's face was blank. Not a trace of doubt, skepticism or confusion could be gleaned from the stone facade present.

Harry enjoyed his time in the Royal Marines. He helped save lives, prevented his brothers and sisters-in-arms from succumbing to defeat, celebrated every victory with a party and cheer, and shared in the grief of multiple tragic losses.

The Royal Marines were a brotherhood. An experience that differed from the somber mood of the Order of the Phoenix and D.A. from his reality. The Order was a ragtag team of individuals brought together to fight the Death Eaters - there was hardly any comradire to be found in that. The D.A., while it was fun, was inexperienced. What could students do against Wizarding veterans? They fought hard, gave it their all, but in the end, they were no match.

The marines were different.

He wasn't someone special. Someone that others looked to, to solve their problems just because of his name. Everything he had accomplished so far, he earned. He was just a soldier. A soldier equal to everyone else.

And to know of an option that could help save his fellow brothers and sisters from unnecessary death? He would take it in a heartbeat.

"Yes, sir." Harry answered as he faced his superior with a determined gaze. "I can do much in the marines. But out there? I can help save my fellow men and women from ever being ambushed again. For every life I save in the Royal Marines, I'd be saving ten in the SAS."

The man nodded, "You have heart Potter, I have no doubt of that. But are you sure? I wouldn't want to lose a man as good as you."

Harry replied once more in the affirmative much to the officer's regret. Signing several forms, the man placed them into a manila folder before handing it to Harry. With a wave of his hand, Harry found himself being dismissed.

On his way back, he wasn't surprised to find Tsang in the halls of the base. She stopped him when she noticed the pleased yet slightly sheepish grin upon Harry's face.

"What's up with you?" she asked.

"The office and Major approved of my transition, I'll be back in Britain tomorrow night. Two weeks of leave before I report to Sennybridge."

The smile that came onto Tsang's face was genuine. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. Shouldn't be surprised you wanted to jump in with the big boys."

"Thanks Tsang," Harry rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. "It means so much to me knowing that you fully approve."

"There is one problem, though…," the woman looked around to make sure the corridor was clear before she lowered her voice. "What about your… um…"

"Abilities?" A smirk threatened to break out on his face as Tsang flushed scarlet. "On one hand, less witnesses. The other, more attention on me. I'd just have to be careful won't I?"

"Idiot," Tsang scoffed as she reached a hand out to Harry. "Good luck, Lieutenant."

"I'll make sure to send you letters, don't you worry," Harry smiled as he gripped and shook his second's hand.

They quietly said their goodbyes and Harry returned to his room, feeling slightly rueful. Tsang had been a great friend in their years of service together. He wished she would have joined him but he knew she felt comfortable where she currently belonged.

* * *

The flight back was one of the weirdest flights Harry had been on, since he began his military service. The soft cushioned seats were a stark contrast to the straps and metal benches he was used to. Walking into his apartment for the first time in years had been especially strange. It felt fantastical.

Sleeping in his bed instead of a cot or rocky ground was frightening. The mattress felt as if it would never stop sinking. His back did have its complaints to yell when he decided to try sleeping on the floor several times.

The days passed rather quickly for Harry. He had spent most of the mornings waking up early for a jog. Early morning jogs were a habit ingrained into him from the marines, nothing that would have been expected when he was in the Auror corps.

While the Auror corps were meant to be the best of the law enforcement for the magical world, essentially a special forces unit, their training was heavily focused on magical aspects. Fitness was a general requirement but it was never emphasized as heavily as it was in the muggle world.

Why jog two kilometers when you can apparate that same distance in a few seconds? Why focus on camouflage and stealth when a disillusionment spell and _Muffliato _concealed your still presence almost entirely?

Auror training was meant for one thing. Power and endurance. And for Muggle warfare training? It was how far your body and brain could physically and mentally be pushed.

As Harry sat down at his desk, he found himself being welcomed by the pages of untouched paperwork and notes left alone to wait. Immediately, he scowled.

The work was extremely important. Problems had occurred in the field when he used his magic and ended up frying an electronic device near him. He could still imagine the looks of annoyance on his team's faces when they found themselves stuck in a desert with fried radios. Luckily, a town with a somewhat willing man 'offered' them a cell to use.

Flipping through the pages of the journal, Harry came to a rest at a passage detailing about the inner workings of Enertrof's law. Experiments that his mother had attempted which resulted in failure. Rune schemes that he had yet to translate littered pages upon pages of the journal. What the English portions did share in common however, was Enertrof's law, magic, runes and Thor.

He had to look up Thor briefly. A Nordic God of thunder that could also command lightning. It was interesting but the only relevance he saw between Thor and the rest of the journal was that lightning was an electrical current. Not to mention that he was apparently killed by a giant sea serpent named Jormungandr. Didn't really see how that was helpful but it was interesting to read about.

_According to my current experiments, it appears that Enertrof failed to account for the random activity produced through electrical currents. It was to his belief that electricity was a form of primitive Earthen magic adapted into use by medieval wizards. From this, Enertrof may have concluded that the medieval wizarding way of conversion led to a distinct difference between magic then and magic now. Demonstrations on how electrical currents can redirect itself and spells when they come together in direct contact must have played into this, leading to his 'law' on how the polarity of electricity affected today's magic. But, what electricity really is, is the transfer of energy through electrons. It can be directed but not controlled. What we are meant to look for is a medium that can sustain and infuse both energy and magical energy together to create a harmonic rhythm. At least, I do believe that is the first step in accomplishing fully cooperative electronic devices with magic._

Harry banged his head against the table several times. And here he was hoping that the solution would deal with something as 'simple' as runes. Maybe a runic scheme if necessary. But this? Harry wanted to scream in frustration. Perhaps he didn't spend as much training in basic as he should have if this was already making his brain numb. Discipline and fortitude. That's what he would need to get through this.

Dragging his hands down his face, Harry set to work on his physics textbook in tandem with his Ancient Runes book. It was going to be a long night.

He prayed that his mother couldn't hear him cussing her out.

* * *

****A/N: That's a wrap! I know you're excited to meet the rest of the MCU, but I hope that what little we've given you here will be enough to sate your burgeoning appetites. I can promise that we'll be there soon enough. R&R and we'll see you in Ch. V!****


	5. Chapter V

**Welcome back! We hope you enjoy this chapter. We of course don't own HP or Marvel. They belong to Rowling and Marvel respectively. This is a collaborative work between myself and Venerance. We also thank the help of Nauze and Philip Tomarys. There are a few time jumps in this chapter so we can get to the good stuff. I've included time stamps so that you know when everything is happening. Make sure to read the A/N at the end of this chapter. **

**This chapter is dedicated to my great-uncle Pablo, who just recently passed away after complications from surgery on 04/21/2020. **

_**Te amo tio. Gracias por inspirarme a escribir con mi corazón. Que las estrellas iluminen para siempre tu camino. ¡Buena caza!**_

**Enjoy and R&R!**

* * *

"Play it again."

The video on the large screen rewound back to the darting figure cloaked in the murk of night. His silhouette was softly illuminated by the flashes of light from the firing of his weapon as he mounted himself behind some sort of cover. But it was not just the combustion from his weapon's barrel that lit up the night sky.

Scratching the small trimmed bush that dressed his chin, the man narrowed his eyes as the image on the screen zoomed closer on the lens of the masked figure's goggles. A hint of gleaming white reflected in the optics before the video stuttered and snapped to black.

It should have been nothing. Many would say he was imagining things. That he was finally going insane. Seeing impossibilities or illusions where there was none. He would be a laughingstock if he brought it up to anyone else.

Typing into the keyboard, the video began to rewind until the flash of a bullet firing illuminated the scene. Halting the video in its tracks, the man allowed himself to observe the tense individual in the recording. His vision drifting across the screen, he felt his lips twitch slightly downward as he focused on the blurry insignia on the man's arm.

"Enhance."

* * *

_26th November, 2008_

Harry flipped through the briefing as he shifted into a more comfortable position. The assignment was nothing too serious. Three high-value targets settled in a small encampment near Gulmira. There was very little intel about the area. Only satellite images and video surveillance from drones gave Harry an inkling of where he would be conducting his operation.

While these sort of operations were meant for a team to handle, especially HALO operatives, the mission was what one would call as 'off the record'. Something coordinated by a higher-up that was _not _meant to draw attention. Which found Harry being drafted into. Whether it was his impeccable service record or minimal presence within the SAS, his handler found him worthy of this clandestine mission.

A loud beep sounded over the plane's intercom, resulting in muffled grumbling and yawns as everyone in the troop bay unstrapped themselves from their seats to stand up and stretch. Orders came from an officer pacing up and down the row of soldiers lining up at the exit. Following the man's commands, Harry gave a once-over on the parachute attached to the man in front of him. Patting twice on the man's shoulder to signal that his chute was good, Harry braced himself on the rope swinging lazily from the plane's interior hull.

A loud mechanical screech resonated through the troop bay as the rear door of the aircraft began to open. Two pats on the shoulder alerted Harry to his own good chute. Staring at the signal light at the rear of the aircraft, the occupants shuffled nervously as they waited.

And kept waiting.

"_Ding"_

The red signal light turned green. Immediately, the occupants started to trudge out the back of the plane. He could barely hear himself breathe as the sound of the wind blasting by hundreds of miles per minute filled his ears. When Harry reached the end of the ramp, he leapt off with a whoop.

It never got old, being able to soar weightlessly through the air as he maneuvered around with little to no resistance. Except, this time, he didn't have a broomstick between his legs. Triple the danger, triple the excitement, triple the freedom. From the corner of his eye, he could see the main group drifting farther and farther away in the night sky. It was clear that no one saw him branch off. He was nothing more than a mere speck in the endless abyss of black.

A laugh escaped Harry's lips as he streaked across the midnight sky. Nothing in the world, nothing magical, nothing muggle, could replicate this feeling of such sensational joy he felt at this very moment. He could feel his suit rippling across his body as he soared downwards hundreds of feet per second. Checking the gauge on his wrist, Harry let out another whoop as he veered off into the distance.

The smog was thick over the small encampment near Gulmira.

That was only what Harry had been able to see before he landed on the sandy earth a few hours ago. Pulling a pair of binoculars out of a satchel by his hip, Harry laid down carefully on the rocky cliffside. Inch by inch, Harry slowly crept to the ledge, making sure to minimize his profile and sound.

"What do we have here?" Harry murmured quietly to himself as he zoomed the binocular lenses closer to the source of smoke wafting into the air.

Drifting past the smoky ruins of a semi-burnt town, Harry found himself focusing on a line of jeeps and trucks bumping up and down on a rocky path near the mountains. It didn't take a genius to understand that the people in the line of vehicles ahead were the ones responsible for the devastation in the town. Not with the several technicals he spotted protecting what appeared to be looted cargo.

The briefing mentioned something like this. That the members he was sent to assassinate belonged to a more underground group of individuals. Not as large as terrorist groups such asAl Qaeda but far more capable and covert, raiding and pillaging local villages and towns for supplies while they worked on grander schemes. Several corrupt government officials had been suspected of working with this group, known as the Ten Rings, but evidence had been hard to dig up.

Disapparating from his position, Harry reappeared further up the mountain road that the congregation of vehicles seemed to be following. Intel stated that his targets were in the area and the line of ignorant terrorists were, hopefully, going to lead him right towards them. Casting a quick disillusionment charm, Harry prowled by the boulders near the road as the first sign of headlights began appearing around the corner.

The _rat-at-tat _of a poor overworked engine first graced Harry's ears as a white pickup truck turnt around the corner before chugging up the slightly inclined road. Through the windshield, Harry could spot two masked individuals arguing and gesturing nonsensically about something. Harry noted the AK-47 resting in between the passenger's legs before letting his gaze move over to the following vehicle. A troop transport.

As the vehicles began to pass, Harry felt his ears perk at the slight sound of muffled sniffling over the mechanical hums. Twisting his head around, Harry could feel his eyes begin to widen as the canvas-covered troop transport passed by. Through the opening in the back, he could see one of the terrorists threatening a child with the barrel of his gun.

Oh, he found his first additional target, all right.

A small crunch sounded beneath Harry's feet as he crept along the pebble pathway. Tents filled with stockpiles of weapons rested ahead, cleverly hidden behind jutting rocks and beige canvases. Temporary and rugged but effective - it easily explained why British intel was having a difficult time locating these encampments from an aerial and orbital view.

Drawing his wand from his makeshift holster, Harry slowly crept up the path to the half-asleep guard slumping in his chair. Double-checking to make sure his disillusionment charm was up, Harry stepped away from the shadows and rested his wand tip against the exhausted man.

"_Avada Kedavra"_

A flash of green light illuminated the dusty road before fading away. Leaving behind an empty corpse resting peacefully on the cool metal chair. Despite the disgust Harry felt after using the curse, he was forced to concede the practicality of such magic in his current occupation.

Harry quickly darted behind several crates sitting haphazardly behind a wall of sandbags as suddenly lit floodlights began to scour the area. Peeking out from between the cracks of the boxes, Harry watched as a line of trucks began filtering into the open area of the encampment.

It was the convoy.

Shrieks and cries from the passengers inside of the troop transport echoed throughout the mountainside as they were forced out of the vehicle at gunpoint. Loud smacks of rifle butts against flesh as the men were separated from the women, elicited a small growl deep within Harry's throat. The unfortunate truth was that innocent people were always dragged into the harsh realities and unending conflicts of any war. It was inevitable.

Luckily for these victims of their circumstances, Harry would be here to help, this time.

From one of the leading trucks, he spotted two of his targets exiting the line of vehicles as they walked deeper into the camp. Casting a quick glance at the scared civilians, Harry closed his eyes before following his targets.

'Later' Harry told himself as he watched his _mission _enter a large tent at the far side of the camp. 'I will come back for them later.'

As a patrol strolled past, Harry hurried across the dirt road and knelt besides the thin canvas wall of the large tent. Muffled voices filtered through the cloth into Harry's ears as he quickly casted _Homenum Revelio_. The silhouettes of several people shone through the tent wall, causing Harry to silently curse.

If it had been just the two targets, it wouldn't have been too much of a hassle to handle. But six, that was bound to muck things up. Even if he silenced the entire tent, the flares from surprised, especially silent, gunfire would draw too much attention. He couldn't afford to wait for the group to disperse. Each of his targets were a timed priority. And he had no idea where the third was.

He would have to buy more time. If he casted a silencing charm over the tent, it would buy him enough time to extract the information he needed from at least one of his targets before a patrol was sent to investigate.

Waving his wand, a slight sparking sheen covered the tent. Skulking around to the entrance, Harry readied his silenced pistol in one hand and wand in the other. With a mental countdown from three, Harry shook off his nerves and burst into the tent.

Everything seemed to slide into slow-motion as Harry quickly identified his two targets lounging in the back, talking to a single guard while three others stood attentively at the sides. With Harry's sudden entrance, he watched as his targets shot upright and the guards stumbled backwards, quickly identifying him as non-friendly.

Vibrations ran up Harry's arm as his finger pressed down upon the trigger while a piercing spell flowed through his wand in tandem. Blood splattered across the tent wall and ground as two of the guards fell to the floor. By the time Harry got his second shot off, incapacitating the third guard, the last guard finally managed to fire his rifle in Harry's direction in a panicked motion.

Harry could feel the whiz of the bullet pass beneath his arm before a final bullet from his gun had the guard falling into the tent wall.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted, the spell slammed into one of his targets, knocking him harshly into the ground.

"Kenneth Grant," Harry growled as he hoisted his second target up by the neck before slamming him down into a table. "Where is he?"

"Stupid Englishman," the man growled before Harry lifted him up and slammed him back down again. "The men outside will know. They will come for me!"

"That is more than enough time for me," Harry replied as he aimed his wand at the man's purple face. "_Legilimens!_"

A swarm of memories assaulted his mind. Delving deeper and deeper, Harry quickly passed by the dredge of irrelevant memories until he arrived at something more recent. A bruised and injured man, blood soaking his ragged clothes as he was strapped down in a sturdy metal chair. The memory went by faster and faster as it sped past the hours of torture. Until finally, Harry watched as the man exited the room.

"What did you do?" The man stuttered as Harry emerged back into reality. "Witchcraft! The Devil is in you!"

Harry offered no words as he efficiently sent the man into the afterlife. Stepping away from the body, Harry froze as the sound of several clicks sounded behind him.

"Turn! Slowly!" Harry heard a voice behind him say. Carefully turning to face the new threats, Harry found himself staring at the target he stunned moments prior in front of a group of armed terrorists.

"You think you can shoot me and live?" The target hissed as he pulled open his jacket. His fist thumped against the metal plate of his body armor concealed under his heavy jacket. "You have made a grave mistake."

"I don't think it was me who did so," Harry said slowly as his eyes shifted from one terrorist to another as he whipped his wand around to cast a _Bombarda_. The tent entrance exploded in a shower of sparks and dirt as Harry quickly casted a shield around himself. It was official now. The mission had pretty much gone tits up.

He quickly left the tent. Sprinting across the open area as spotlights began scouring the area, Harry slid into cover behind a small cache of crates as three terrorists appeared around the corner. Loading a fresh magazine into his gun, Harry popped out of cover and fired at the wild gunmen.

Specks of blood adorned the crates as a bullet slammed into the cheek of one of the insurgents before Harry ducked behind cover yet again. Reloading his pistol, Harry kept his weapon trained at the middle aisle before sliding his wand into his dominant palm. Peeking out once more, Harry conjured a jet of flames to sprout towards the hiding terrorists.

Screams split the air as Harry made a break towards the cave in which his target's memories pointed to. Sliding through the entrance, Harry quickly picked off two of the guards who were running up one of the tunnels before dashing down a second.

Navigating through the maze of cavern tunnels proved to be mentally and physically exhausting as insurgents seemed to stream from everywhere. Two turns, he had to backtrack and find a different path due to LMG fire until finally, he arrived at the containment blocks. Keeping a watchful eye at the tunnel he had just come through, Harry carefully crept past the metal doors until his attention was drawn towards the sound of a scream resonating from a door to his left.

Harry immediately had his wand and gun out. Gently twisting the metal lock, Harry flinched as a loud metal clamp disengaged from the frame. Hearing the voices inside falter, Harry immediately kicked the door open and found himself staring at a surprised man with a blowtorch in his hand and another strapped into a chair with his head lolling.

A twitch of his finger sent a fountain of red into the cell wall.

"VIP located," Harry radioed in as he set about removing the man's bindings. "Situation got a little bit loud but targets one and two are KIA. Over."

"Copy that," he heard a female voice reply through his headset. "Cleanup crews are on their way. Please, make your way to the rendezvous for extraction."

"About time they sent someone to extract me," the man hissed in pain as he found himself hoisted to his feet. "Be more gentle next time!"

"I've heard how stuck up you agency boys can be," Harry grumbled as he began escorting the agent out of the caverns. Navigating carefully past the intersections where he had last encountered the encamped LMGs, Harry almost groaned in irritation as he felt the agent behind him stumble and collapse onto the ground.

"Get up!" Harry growled as the sound of footsteps began thundering in the corridor behind them.

"Give me a weapon!" The agent scowled as he clutched his aching chest.

"You idiot," Harry grumbled as he yanked the man forward. "We need to move, now!"

"I need a weapon!" The agent repeated. Biting back a groan, Harry handed over his pistol and two additional mags.

"Happy?" Harry snarled as he grabbed a hold of the agent's arm. Pushing past the entrance of the cave, the two found themselves stumbling into a crowd of terrorists all aiming their weapons at them.

"Down!" Harry yelled as he shoved the agent to the ground. "_Fiendfyre!_"

Screams erupted from the group as a massive fiery beast began taking shape in front of everyone. Waves of scorching heat blasted through the camp as coils of flame. Cutting off the stream of flames sprouting from his wand, Harry quickly dragged the astonished agent behind him as he made a quick detour through the middle of the camp.

"What was that? Where are we going?" The agent gasped disbelievingly as he stared back at the scorch marks left behind in the blackened and glassed sand.

"You agency boys don't always get the good toys," Harry misdirected as he approached the tent he last saw the frightened civilians forced into. Pushing past the flaps, Harry found himself being held at gunpoint by one of the civilians inside.

"Englishman," The civilian stammered as he pointed his gun back and forth between Harry and the agent behind him. "You did this."

"Relax," Harry attempted to coax as he attempted to take a step forward only to find himself being held at gunpoint once more. "I'm here to help."

"Help?" the man spoke in disbelief. "You come to my home, bring war to my door and have my family brought into the hands of terrorists and you tell me you want to help? If you want to help, then leave! Tell your fellow soldiers to leave this land and never come back. Then, and only then, you will be helping."

Harry's eyes floated towards the fearful gazes cast his way as the rifle in the hands of the frightened man in front of him began to rattle.

"There are empty trucks out front," Harry at last said. "I'd suggest you hurry."

Exiting the tent, Harry found himself caught in the grip of the agent besides him.

"Want to explain that?" The agent barked as he pushed Harry against one of the crates outside. "The people, the fire?"

"It's not important."

"Au contraire," the agent jeered as Harry felt the tip of his gun pushed against his stomach. "I rather think it's a potential threat to British security. The weapon you have is probably against military regulations and those people back there are probably terrorists that you were in cahoots with. All it would take is a phone call to your superiors and you would find yourself in a deep dark hole in the middle of nowhere unless you hand that thing over and explain everything."

Harry could feel his eyes narrow at the non subtle threats the cursed bureaucratic agent in front of him was emitting. The next time someone asks him to undertake a black ops mission, he would just refuse. He didn't appreciate people he rescued turning against him.

"Fine," Harry growled as he watched a smirk slide across the agent's face. "Listen carefully…"

"_Obliviate_."

* * *

_14th December, 2008_

The streets of London were quiet as Harry walked through Trafalgar Square. It was late evening and most of the tourists had returned to their hotels and hostels. Harry himself was finding it hard to sleep. The mission from a few years prior kept playing through his head. The Occlumency he learned from Auror training helped some, but he was still no master at the skill, even if his own meager skills were probably the best in the world, he mused sardonically.

The walk towards the pub where he used to work at was pretty quick and Harry was able to get out of the weather that was slowly starting to turn sour. When he entered the diner-turned-pub, he was greeted by the new hostess and she took him to a back table and allowed him to settle down before she handed him a menu.

"May I start you off with something to drink sir?" asked the woman.

"Guinness, make it quick, please," answered Harry.

"I'll be right back with your drink, sir."

As the woman left, Harry took a few minutes to look at the menu. He doubted it was any different since his employment here but it never hurt to check. After deciding what to eat, he placed his menu back down and waited for the waitress to return with his stout beer. He took in the music that was playing through the roof speakers. It was a soft Scottish jig, meant for some light dancing. Looking around, Harry saw that there was indeed a couple dancing softly to the music.

It had been eight years since he had arrived in this dimension. Six years had passed since the fall of the World Trade Center. Since then, he'd only made a few friends, namely his last employer, Adam, as well as Tsang and Chandar. He allowed his head to drift off a bit. He missed his old friends from his dimension. He was sure that Ron or Neville would be able to say something to cheer him up. Luna would probably confuse him so much with her curious outlook about the world that he'd forget his woes, at least for a while.

The waitress serving him returned with a dark beer which Harry recognized from previous trips to Adam's pub. He thanked her and ordered the steak pie and took to sipping his drink, savoring the bitter aftertaste of the drink as it slid down his throat. The music had shifted now and Harry glanced at the clock and the wall. The softest tones of a saxophone were now coming through the speakers, and Harry allowed himself to sway slightly at the music. That was one area where muggles had done much better than their magical cousins.

When Harry had finally set himself up completely, he'd found great pleasure in enjoying the music that mundanes had to provide him with. They offered much better alternatives to the Weird Sisters. He much more preferred the dulcet tones of vocalists like Celine Dion. That said, he did enjoy some of the pop culture icons of the day. Akon's music seemed to be on a constant replay in his head these days. Now that he thought about it, he'd been whistling some of the Beatles on his way back to London, from Afghanistan.

The waitress returned with his steak pie, setting it down in front of him. Harry nearly moaned as the crust melted in his mouth. He deeply enjoyed having this treat, now that he was back in the UK. There was only so much the cooks back at base could do to make the food taste decent with such egregious ingredients.

"Careful there, someone might get jealous of that pie," a subtle Scottish Brogue washed over Harry's ears.

The woman's voice came from behind Harry's shoulder and he turned to look at the statuesque brunette standing behind him. She was beautiful and Harry found himself being reminded of that one actress who played the main role in the Tomb Raider films. He nodded his head in greeting and she took the nod as an invitation to join him at the table.

"You looked like you could use someone to talk to," she offered as she sat down and Harry could offer no reply. Instead, he only shrugged as he grabbed one of the extra menus at the corner of the table to give her. Harry watched her, a bit unsure of himself and how he was supposed to answer to this woman. Finally the most typical greeting left his lips.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter," he responded. She looked up from the menu and gave him a small grin.

"I'm Keira Walsh," she said as the waitress came back to get Keira's order.

Harry allowed himself to relax a bit as he watched as she ordered from the menu and the waitress left once again to fill in the new order. Keira was the first to speak, "So Mr. Potter, why haven't I seen you here before?"

"I've been overseas," he answered vaguely.

This seemed to pique her interest. "Business or pleasure?" She asked with a coy grin on her face. One that Harry was finding hard not to match.

"Definitely business," he responded with a grin of his own.

"Sounds dull and boring," her grin was still splayed out over her face.

Harry shrugged, "It can be. Besides, I much prefer to be back home here in London. The weather here is absolutely abysmal, but at least it's usually cooler than the desert during the day."

Keira's eyes narrowed in interest, "Oooh, a military man, huh? How long have you been over there?"

"Off and on again since '02. So, about six years now," Harry answered, looking down at his plate.

"So you get to see the world? What's the most beautiful thing you've seen out there?" she queried.

Harry was sorely tempted to answer with 'you' but it reminded him too much of the cheesy pick-up lines Fred and George often employed, so he instead recalled the sight he'd been graced with the day when he last left Afghanistan, "We'd just taken off from the base and it was still dark. Our chopper was taking us to the American base in Qatar for supplies and what not. We'd be taking a flight from there."

He closed his eyes, as the sunrise over the Persian Gulf painted itself in his head. He opened his eyes and offered Keira a soft smile as he continued, "As we came in, you could see the sun coming up over the Persian Gulf. Everytime the sun comes up over the water, it's a great sign, but I think the fact that it meant I was finally going home for a while was even better."

The waitress returned with Keira's order, and after the waitress left, Keira raised her drink to Harry, "To more beautiful sunrises."

Harry raised his glass, "Cheers!"

They both knocked back their drinks and Harry once again enjoyed the sensation of the ale headed towards his stomach. The pub was quieter now, and a glance at his phone told him that it was nearing closing time for the pub. The waitress came back with the bill and Harry paid the tab.

"So, what do you say we get out of here?" asked Keira as she stood from the table. Harry followed suit, placing a £2 coin on the table as they left the pub. The weather was fair again as midnight came closer. Harry and Keira walked for what seemed like hours.

Harry let Keira take the lead and they came up on some apartment buildings and Harry followed as she led them to one of them. When they reached the entrance, Keira turned to Harry, a smile on her face.

"Would you like to come in? I'm sure I can wrangle up a small kettle of tea," she asked.

Harry breathed in deeply and offered her his best lopsided grin, "Sure."

She smiled brightly and opened the door to the townhouse. With a nod of his head, she let him enter first. The door closed tightly behind them.

* * *

_6th February, 2009_

Raza Hamidmi Al-Wazar was not a happy man.

Two cells had gone missing the past week. Almost all the scouts he had sent to investigate had never returned. The ones that did, spoke of a great terror. Scorched earth and burnt rubble. Remnants of an unknown weapon that extinguished their fellow brother cells from this Earth. All the while, the American and English forces began enclosing on their position.

Times were desperate.

Raza turned back to the cave they were currently operating from. The cell was little more than half staffed. They had to relocate after a couple of English forces ransacked their last center of operations. Rooms filled with weapons, riches, and men were lost to those English dogs as they were forced to flee.

_Him_, forced to flee. The other leaders would laugh and ridicule him if they heard of this development.

They needed something better. Something to force those American and English dogs to turn tail and flee. And as if Allah himself had come, the white Devil, otherwise known as Obadiah Stane, reached them. He made them a wondrous offer after hearing their demands - courtesy packages filled with Stark armaments built the trust the cell held towards the old man, but still, he would never fully trust a white traitor, if he could betray Stark, there is no guarantee they would not be betrayed in turn.

"Raza!" A man came rushing towards him from the mouth of the cave, speaking in heavily accented Arabic. "Mr. Stane has just called. And he says he has good news!"

Raza nodded and followed the man back to their communication center where Abu and the communications chief were already waiting for him. Abu's eyes were twinkling with delight. It appeared as if the offer was already something of interest if it had his second-in-command excited.

"Mr. Stane, I was told that you have an offer for us?" Raza started, his voice even, though the desire to sneer at the man persistently poked at the forefront of his mind.

"Ahhh Raza, I do have good news!" The white Devil smiled as he took a sip from a mug besides him. "Stark Industries has just unveiled a new weapon. Now I must say she is quite a beauty. Certain to wipe a mountain completely off the planet, if you understand what I mean?"

Raza's eye twitched at the hidden threat within Stane's message. "I see…"

"Now, I'm sure you may doubt my words, but next week, a Stark contractor will be demonstrating the capabilities of this weapon to the United States Army. I'm sure it will be a show that you would _not _want to miss."

* * *

_6th June, 2009 _

Harry woke up feeling a bit groggy. Rubbing his eyes, he patted the bed to the left of him only to realize it was empty. A slight scent of peaches drifted from the bathroom that slowly forced him out of bed. He took his time in getting ready, it wasn't like there was anything for him to be doing at the moment.

After brushing and rinsing his teeth, Harry stumbled into the living room where he plopped down onto the couch. Clicking the remote, he found the television switching on to CNN which was continuing its broadcast about the mysterious disappearance of the famed billionaire Tony Stark and the aftereffects of his return.

Harry rolled his eyes as he fetched a glass of water from the kitchen. He didn't appreciate being pulled from shore leave to search for some inventor, if rumors served right, got himself captured and multiple soldiers killed due to his own recklessness. It reeked of selfishness. And quite possibly, the only reason he was pulled was because the inventor was some big shot within the U.S. military. Sure, it should have been a U.S. affiliated emergency and it would have, if it hadn't been for the fact that Stark was a weapons genius. If terrorists had him in their clutches, who knew what they could find themselves fighting against.

His short departure led to a few heated tensions with his girlfriend who was already quite concerned about the mounting tensions in Afghanistan. With a sigh, Harry turned the television off and prepared to go outside.

It was a quiet morning as he entered the pub and sat down on a bar stool. He pulled out his tome and began to read as he waited for someone to come out and see him. After about a minute or two, the pub owner came into the room with an apron on and a towel over his shoulder.

"Harry! How've you been?" Asked the aging man with a wide grin on his face.

Harry flashed a grin as he locked eyes with his former boss. Adam always seemed to have a smile on his face whenever he was at work. Didn't stop him from being a harsh taskmaster in the kitchen when it was necessary, however. But the quality of the food that came out from doing so made it more than worth it.

"Can't complain too much," answered Harry as the owner placed a cup of tea in front of him.

"So, what can I get you today?" Harry's eyes roamed the menu before landing on a rather appetizing option.

"I'll have the full breakfast."

"Okay then, give me a second and I'll go place the order in the back," the old man told him as he lumbered off into the back. Harry took a few seconds to stir his tea and before taking a sip as he glanced around the small pub.

"Still seeing that girl, what's her name Kyra?" asked Adam.

Harry glared at him a bit, but corrected him, "Keira, and yes, I'm still seeing her."

"I'm glad for you Harry, you need somebody that can pull you out of your apartment every once and awhile," Adam responded, leaning back against the countertop behind him, "Everything good in that department?"

Harry grimaced as he looked down at his teacup. Things weren't as good as they had been. He stirred his drink once more, creating a swirling brew intermittent with chaotic whirlpools before answering the man, "She's not taking too well the fact that I'm constantly being deployed to Afghanistan. Keeps asking me to transfer somewhere else. It's not like I have a choice, though. It's up to command that determines where I go, not me. If she is constantly getting upset about that and refuses to listen when I try to explain, how's it going to be like with the next deployment?"

Adam picked up a glass and started patting it down with his towel, "Do you love her?"

Harry began to contemplate on his words before offering a shrug. "I like her, I guess."

Adam looked at him critically. "You guess? Then why are you still with her?"

Harry could only offer another shrug before a small _ding_ rang through the pub as a tall black man adorned in a long ebony leather coat strided into the building. As Adam walked off to tend to the newcomer, Harry found himself staring emptily at his tea.

What was he looking for with his relationship with Keira? Something normal? Something stable? Companionship? These thoughts roamed around his head, unaware of the small wooden creaks sounding from the stool next to him.

"So, I guess this is the place where I can expect to find one of the SAS's youngest and one of the most successful members of all time."

Harry gently laid his fork back down to his plate as he turned to look at the newcomer who just moved to the seat right next to him. Up close, Harry could see an eyepatch covering the left eye of the dark skinned man as he looked towards him with an unflinching stare. Even with only one eye, Harry could feel himself become slightly unnerved from the strange man.

"I think you may have the wrong person." Harry replied.

"No, I'm pretty sure I have the right person," the man chuckled, relieving the pub of all its previous tension. "You are not exactly that hard to track down."

"You know," Harry began to reply as he dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. "Even the bit of information you do have is not publically accessible. I could have you detained and thrown into lockup for just knowing this."

"I know more than bits Mr. Potter," the man spoke as he leaned closer to Harry. "But I'm not here to talk about your career history. At least, not directly."

Harry found himself slightly curious as the man began pulling a manila folder from within his coat. Placing it down in front of him, Harry found himself casting the mysterious man a wary look before opening the folder.

Records, health reports, grades, identification papers. All lined up and organized into their own little subsections with the folder. Notes detailing about previous operations he took part of. His successes in the field with notes from his superiors. Even the black ops operation held several connections towards him within the folder. Each and every paper within, all meant to be classified.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has had its eye on you for a _very _long time Mr. Potter," the man said as he observed the conflicted emotions travelling across Harry's face.

"Shield?"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, or S.H.I.E.L.D., for short," the man clarified as he began taking a sip from the drink placed before him. "And yes, the upper echelons of your British military know we exist. We just prefer to keep our organization out of public view."

"Secretive, huh?" Harry scoffed as he turned his attention back to his plate. "Doesn't sound so secretive if you are discussing this with me in an open pub."

"You and I have very different views of open, Mr. Potter."

Harry stilled before casting a wide sweep of the entire pub. There was absolutely no one around. The pub owner was missing and there was hardly any sound coming from the back. Even the television in the corner of the room was shut off. All in all, it was only him and the strange man in the pub alone. His hand slowly drifted beneath his jacket to grip his pistol only to discover the man's hand gripping his wrist, halting the movement.

"My division specializes in counter-terrorism and intelligence," the man continued, ignoring Harry's narrowed gaze pointed his way. "For two years now, my organization has been tracking your movements."

"Great," Harry scoffed as he attempted to jerk his hand out of the man's ironclad grip. "My own personal secretive stalker. Positively _titillating_."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. monitors all threats to global security," the man clarified as he released Harry's wrist. "You just happen to be one of those supposed threats. If you turned, who knows what kind of damage you could do to the world?"

"I am just one man," Harry replied as he suspiciously observed the slight gleam in the man's only remaining eye.

"Indeed," the man smiled as he began drinking from his cup once more. "One man with the ability to do the _extra_ordinary."

Harry found himself flying into action before his brain could even process what just occurred. A jab towards the head followed by an uppercut to the stomach. All of which would have landed if it wasn't for the equally as fast reflexes from the man besides him. Dodging the cup thrown at his face, Harry whipped around and pulled out his Glock-17 only to find a similar pistol aimed straight at his face.

"You're fast Potter, very fast," the man complimented. "I'm very glad I had the chance to see a hint of it in action."

"Well, you're about to see something a whole lot quicker if you don't lower that gun, right _now_," Harry hissed as he locked gazes with the man in front of him.

"I'm just here to ask for your help," the man spoke.

"Yea?" Harry questioned, "Well, you've got a shitty way of showing it."

With a gesture meant to symbolize Harry to relax. The man slowly placed his pistol down on the bar counter before raising his hands in the air.

"You see? Now please, lower that gun," the man spoke, "you are making my agents very, _very _anxious."

Harry looked down to see several laser dots pointed all around his torso. With a twitch in his eye, Harry placed his gun back underneath his jacket. As soon as he did so, the lasers disappeared.

"You were prepared," Harry replied as he stared back at the slightly amused man.

"I've done my homework, yes," the man responded as he nodded to the folder. "Are you prepared to do yours?"

"What do you want?"

"No, no, no," the man chuckled as he took a seat at the bar once more. "It's not what I want. It's what you want. You're looking for a purpose. Possibly, it's why you joined the military. While I'm sure you had other reasons as well, as seen in the folder, your uncanny actions in minimizing collateral damage and the rather unfortunate accident one of your superiors had suffered, you've got no idea what you want to do! You're a man with ideas but have no way of knowing how to follow through with them."

"So what is this?" Harry questioned. "A recruiting pitch?"

"Not yet," the man said as he gestured towards Harry to finish his breakfast. "I have a slight problem that I need some outside help with. The SAS recommended you."

Harry glared at the man, still suspicious until the man handed him a letter from within his coat. Ripping up the seal, Harry's frown lessened as he skimmed the paper before noticing the signature of the Director SAS at the bottom of the paper.

"You want me to go on a rescue mission to retrieve one of your agents in the Middle East?" Harry shook his head, "Why can't you send one of your own men to do so?"

"I'm afraid… we might have a slight internal problem," the man's tone signalled his slight irritation with the subject. "It's enough to say that we don't want to give his captors any sort of warning that someone is coming."

Harry leafed through the letter and folder before sighing and looking back up at the strange man, "When would I leave?"

Fury gave him a smile now, "Flight leaves for Kabul at nine PM tonight from Heathrow, you'll be taken to the American Embassy in Kabul. Instructions will be there when you arrive."

"You know, I never got your name?" Harry called out as the man began approaching the only entrance into the pub.

"It's Fury," the man answered as he opened the door, "Nicholas Fury."

As the strange man left, Harry turned back to the folder and letter resting in his hands.

_Keira's going to be so pissed_.

* * *

A few hours later, Harry was sitting in Keira's apartment waiting for her to come home. She hadn't been happy when he called her at work and told her that something had come up and that he had to leave London that night. He already had his bags packed and was just waiting for the inevitable argument that was coming his way.

He prepared a pot of tea for when she got there, they would both likely need that or something stronger. He was setting the table when she came in through the door and placed her purse on the little table by the door. She saw the tea and went to sit down, waiting for Harry to join her.

"So, tell me again what happened?" she asked.

Harry poured them both a cup of tea, making them the way they both preferred before answering. "I've been tasked to assist in a rescue operation earlier this morning. I have to leave to Afghanistan tonight."

Keira finally looked up at him and Harry noticed just how dark the circles underneath her eyes were. "Are you kidding me? Again?"

Harry felt a bit indignant, "This is my job. It's what I do, you've known this since we met."

Keira gripped her cup of tea tightly as she shot a glare towards Harry. "Yes, but it's beginning to feel like you are prioritizing your job over me. And when you get back, you like to pretend that nothing has happened at all."

"It's my _duty_," Harry reiterated as he groaned in annoyance, "I can't drop everything and stay with you every second of the day. I've made a pledge when I joined the military and I have to stick to it."

Harry expected screaming or shouting. But he didn't expect the monotone voice that came from her. "I can't deal with this anymore. Just go. I'll send you anything you forgot but _just… _go."

Harry sighed and rose from the table. A lump of guilt began pooling within his throat. He tried hard to swallow but it refused to go down. Gripping his bags, he casted one last look in Keira's direction before walking out the door.

* * *

_7th June, 2009_

The drive to the embassy was a quiet one. Harry had used the flight to Kabul to read his briefing and mentally prepare himself for the trip ahead. Now that he was in Kabul, he was ready to work. When they arrived at the embassy, it was already dawn and there was a man in a suit and with short hair waiting for them at the gates. Harry thanked the driver as he exited the SUV before approaching the waiting man who took a glance at his watch.

"You're late."

"I didn't realize there was a specific time for me to arrive," Harry retorted. One of the agent's eyebrows rose before he didn't offer back any retaliation.

"My name is Agent Coulson. I will be your assigned handler as we prepare you for your mission," the man gestured for Harry to follow him inside and Harry dutifully followed.

Agent Coulson led Harry through the embassy to a door with the emblem of an eagle embossed on the glass. Based on the image he'd seen on some of the folders earlier, Harry figured this must have been the emblem of S.H.I.E.L.D. The label beneath with the words "_Field Office-Kabul"_ on the glass only signified the importance of said building to Harry.

"You know," Harry mentioned with a small smirk. "I would have thought an counter-intelligence agency would have been more… _covert_."

Coulson responded with a deadpan, "We believe that hiding in plain sight is a philosophy to aspire to, Mr. Potter."

"Fair enough," Harry replied though he doubted keeping the emblem of said agency in open view did the agency any favors.

They went to a service elevator that only had one direction from the main floor, downwards. Harry's eyebrows rose as they went down several levels. He was tempted to whistle a small tune, but Coulson seemed to be a bit too stiff, although that could easily be attributed to the fact that one of his fellow agents was currently being held hostage.

They exited from the elevator into a room filled with armor and weaponry. Harry let out a low whistle. From pistols to anti-material sniper rifles, this armory had it all. Scouring through the shelves and lockers, Harry found himself drifting the handguns and pulled one out that resembled his own. It was a Glock-17 with heavy modifications. Pulling his own out, Harry compared the two before picking up the custom glock in satisfaction.

"Lightweight trigger, custom barrel, custom silencer, custom stippling, extended magazine and a reflex sight?" Harry whistled in appreciation as he twisted the gun around in his hand from all angles. "Someone worked very hard on you."

"We aspire to have the best gear possible for every agent," Coulson explained as he stood next to Harry. "Is that all you wish to use?"

Harry nodded as he grabbed several of the extended magazines to pocket as Coulson led him to another section of the armory. Lockers filled with bodysuits lined the walls. But Harry found his eyes being torn away when Coulson seemingly pulled a remote out of nowhere and pressed a button. A hiss emitted from the back end of the room as a closed-faced locker rose from the floor. Small amounts of mist flowed down the casket as it escaped from its chilled confines.

"If you don't mind, we've already decided on your outfit based on what talents we were able to observe." Pressing the remote once more, a mechanical hiss emanated through the armory as the casket began to open.

It was really something out of a comic book if one thought about it. It was being worn on a mannequin for the full effect. It wasn't military body armor, but rather a full slim suit. The torso was a thin jacket with a strap wrapping around the chest. The forearms were coated with a thin metal gauntlet that connected to an elbow pad. This came with gloves designed for ease of use. The pants included armor for the thighs as well as extra cargo pockets for small tools. There was also a holster for the glock along the side. At the feet were two padded boots that rose up to the knees.

The main piece of the entire attire had to be the helmet. It was mainly a fiber based cloth, but it was covered with straps that were attached to a pair of NVGs which was equipped with a filter breather beneath along with small cameras that allowed the wearer to view targets from multiple angles. A long whistle escaped through Harry's lips as he approached the chilled suit.

Harry turned to Coulson again, "This is what I'll be using?"

"I take it that you are satisfied with the design?" asked Coulson, a slight smirk on his lips.

Harry looked back at the suit, "Bloody hell, mind giving me the details of the suit?"

"We've done our own mix in creating a lightweight bulletproof material for our field agents to use," Coulson began explaining as he took up his position by the suit. "While the process is too expensive to mass produce, it is quite effective. A hybrid mix including kevlar and ballistic nylon, the suit should be able to stop any sort of light caliber rounds. The goggles are a modified version of Steiner's AN/PVS-21 NVGs that should offer thermal optics in addition to the night optics. Titanium alloy plates adorn the forearms, shins, and chest for additional protection as well."

Coulson checked his watch before motioning to the suit. "We are running late, if you would please put on the suit."

He turned away as Harry pulled the suit from the casket. Stripping out of his clothes, Harry began pulling the suit off the mannequin. A cool sensation ran up Harry's body and goosebumps ran up his body like a tidal wave as he slid one foot after another into the suit. Zipping the suit up, Harry began flexing different parts of his body before putting the suit through a wide array of motions. While the suit hugged his body, it offered zero limitations or restrictions, whatsoever.

He could get used to this.

When Harry was finished, Coulson led him up to the roof where a weird looking jet was waiting for them. Coulson must have sensed Harry's curiosity because he began to speak once more as they boarded the jet.

"We call it a quinjet," Coulson explained. "It'll take you to the drop point. The coordinates for the extraction have already been put into your GPS. You'll take Rumlow to the pick up where the quinjet and pilot will be waiting for you. Should just be a simple in-and-out job. Good luck Mr. Potter."

As Coulson left the quinjet, Harry strapped himself in as the quinjet lifted off from the roof and towards the direction of his drop point.

* * *

It was dark when Harry glided onto the rocky terrain. Casting a disillusionment spell over himself, Harry quickly began walking towards the first set of GPS coordinates. It wasn't too far. He made sure to land near the marked position on his GPS to avoid the hassle of a long trip to his objective. With the night sky playing to his favor, he was practically invisible to anyone looking up into the atmosphere.

When he arrived near the coordinates he found himself staring at another cave encampment. Switching to night vision, Harry located three glowing silhouettes moving lazily through the camp. Slipping his wand and pistol into hand, he cut down the guards at the front of the cave entrance with severing spells aimed at their necks while shooting a third in the head with his pistol up on the watchtower. He didn't bother to stay for the gory aftermath as he passed them, wand raised, into the cave system as their bodies vanished from the Earth.

The lighting system was shoddy, allowing Harry to creep through the system of tunnels with ease, barely visible to the naked eye. Pistol pointed outfront, Harry quickly hugged the walls as a group of fatigued, haggard terrorists staggered up the cave tunnel. As soon as their backs were turned towards him, Harry quickly fired off multiple shots with his pistol before vanishing their corpses to join their comrades with a swish of his wand.

Where do vanished objects go anyways?

Each guard he passed, he killed as stealthily as he could. To destabilize the terrorist cell, he vanished the weapon stockpiles he came across which were resting in the small alcoves of the cave system. His objective wasn't to eliminate the entire terrorist cell. Intel stated that two more major cells would be arriving at this location and if they discovered something suspicious, then they would lose the opportunity to eliminate a total of three massive cells in one single strike. That was almost two-hundred terrorists.

Sweeping past the patrols of guards, Harry found himself delving deeper and deeper into the cave system. Nothing appeared to look like an interrogation room or holding cells. Just rooms filled with maps, bunks, or stockpiles of supplies.

Digging deeper and deeper, Harry found himself halted, hugging the cave walls in the shadows, when he came across a weary insurgent covered in a layer of blood, coating his body like a macabre and thick paint. His finger twitched across the trigger guard of his pistol but he stayed his hand. As the terrorist lumbered off, Harry decided to travel down the path where the terrorist came from.

Furtively slinking down the tunnel, Harry found himself approaching an open room that held a restrained man slumping down in his chair. The man was looking pretty haggard. Harry guessed that the terrorists had indeed put the man through the ringer so to speak. There were signs of hunger and abuse all over his body. He would need extensive medical attention. Gently pushing the man against the back of his chair, Harry was able to make out the stitching that read "Rumlow" on the left part of the chest. Confirming that this was the agent he was sent to extract, Harry quickly cut the man's bindings before casting a _Stupefy_ at the abused man.

The less the man was jostled about, the easier it will be for the doctors to help him recover. Hauling the man onto his back in a fireman carry, Harry casted a quick second glance around the room to ensure nothing was left behind before he Apparated away.

Quick, quiet, and efficient. As he made his half-mile jog to the extraction point, Harry couldn't help but wonder whether or not S.H.I.E.L.D. would let him keep the suit. He couldn't remember the last time a mission felt this easy, it was almost disquietingly comfortable.

* * *

**A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it? Unfortunately, my personal life has been a bit hectic. Besides my great-uncle passing away, I also broke four ribs after falling down a flight of stairs, not fun. The nice thing is I now have a rather long summer break ahead and I should be ready to rock n' roll. If you haven't seen it yet, there is a poll on my profile, so go vote while it's still up.**

****Venerance: Hi, so some of you may be wondering what the suit really looks like? I doubt we did a descriptive enough job of describing it for you. But if you want to have the main idea of what Harry's suit looks like, look up "Agent of Omnistat" on google images. Only thing we really changed was the NVGs for the outfit. Instead of the ones you see in that picture, just imagine Steiner's ones.****


	6. Chapter VI

**Welcome back! As always, we don't own HP or Marvel. This is a collaborative work between myself and Venerance. We also thank the help of Nauze and Philip Tomarys. R&R!**

* * *

"Do you mind telling me how you know?"

"How do I know _what_, Potter?" Harry could feel his eye twitch as he stared at the back of the man's bald head. "You are going to have to be a little more specific."

"You damn know what I mean, _Director_." Harry gripped the desk in front of him as he leaned forward to glare at a peculiarly shiny spot. "Last time I asked, you had at least ten guys aiming their weapons at me. Now, here I am, asking politely."

"So you are here to threaten me?" The man turned around in his seat to stare at Harry with an expression of disbelief.

"Question, not threaten," Harry corrected despite the cocked eyebrow from the black man.

"You and I have two very different interpretations of the word _question_." Fury rose from his seat and spread apart Harry's thin overcoat to reveal two prominent handgun grips resting against his thighs. "You walked up here, wearing something that MY agency gifted to you. Entered my office without warning, and proceeded to address me in a very hostile manner. Let me tell you something. It looks _very _threatening from my point of view."

Harry pushed himself off the desk before closing his eyes to take a deep breath.

Grabbing a hold of the pistol by his thigh, Harry slowly lifted the weapon up before gripping it by the barrel and placing it on the director's desk. Taking a step back, Harry proceeded to lower himself down into the seat behind him. Facing the director once more, Harry found the man smoothing out the wrinkles on his overcoat.

"Now that we are all settled," Fury said as he took a seat in his chair, "I am going to repeat myself one more time. How do I know what, Potter?"

Wordlessly, Harry reached down into his pack and withdrew the manila folder handed to him almost three weeks prior, and opened it up to rifle through the contents within. Picking a singular document, Harry lifted it out and handed it to Fury.

With a cautionary glance Harry's way, the man accepted the document and leaned back in his seat. Resting his hand against his cheek as he tapped the side of his head with his finger, Fury's eye flickered up towards Harry's impatient ones before turning back to the sheet of paper. There was a restless silence as Harry's gaze threatened to burn a hole through Fury's head. Sighing, Fury set aside the document before typing on a slanted keyboard. A simulated blink could be heard behind Harry, forcing him to turn around to see a glass widescreen coming to life.

"Secure office."

The windows obscured and the lights dimmed leaving the office to run in semi-darkness.

"Open Harry Potter's video file."

Suddenly, gunfire began to sound on the glass widescreen. Shaky body cam and poor audio quality filtered through towards the two office occupants. Gravel and debris kicked up on video as the one filming gasped for air. Harry blinked as a man burst on-screen and shook the one holding the camera. With a forced turn, the camera swooped around to reveal a hellish beast, composed entirely of flames, paving around the campsite. The footage began to stutter as the feline beast turned its head to gaze in the direction of the camera before releasing a wild growl. Heavy breaths blared through the footage as the man turned to sprint away from the creature, only for an audible scream to pierce the air as the camera was dropped to reveal the infernal beast latching onto the man's back, causing both to collide violently with the ground.

Next, footage from what appeared to be a security camera began to play. Three men were engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Two against one. But despite the large muscular frames of the two men off to the sides, the one in the middle seemed to be holding his own quite well. As the footage began to flicker, Harry suddenly found himself staring at the lone man in the middle as the two men attacking him writhed on the floor, clutching their necks. Yet, there was nothing in the man's hands to show a weapon of any sorts.

"I have about an hour's worth of footage resting in my personal databanks," Fury spoke as the screen switched to another scene in which a third party from the edges of a city focused hazily on a group of militants before the ground beneath them exploded. "And before you say anything, there wasn't a single trace of explosives residue at that scene. So what I'm looking at here is some sort of alien superpower or very, _very _good special effects. And I find myself leaning more towards the former every day."

"Good to know that you enjoy movies." Harry snorted as he turned around in his seat.

"You're sloppy," Fury stated as he gestured to the screens. "You may be good enough to fool everyone else but you are not good enough to fool me."

"Still doesn't explain how you came by this," Harry replied, indicating as he pulled the document back.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has eyes and ears everywhere." Came the response from Fury as he began busying himself with something in his drawer. "We have the resources to remotely tap into anything, anywhere."

"Who else knows about this?" Harry asked as he shot a glare at the director.

"For right now?" Fury questioned as he raised his eyebrow. "Just me, you, and two other fortunate individuals. One of which you have already met."

"And you thought it was a good idea to share information about me to others without telling me?"

"Well, how else am I supposed to get Santa Claus to deliver you your presents?" Fury said as he rolled his eye before pulling out another manila folder. "Take a look through that."

Placing the previous folder back into the pack Harry had carried up with him before accepting the folder offered to him, Harry offered a suspicious look towards Fury as he examined its contents. Pages upon pages of profiles about different men and women comprised the bulk of the information.

"Who are these people?" Harry questioned quizzically as he glanced towards a pensive Fury.

"Some of the most intelligent and/or the most dangerous people this world has to offer," Fury answered. "People who could prove to be a major threat to our world."

"I'm not your lapdog Fury." Harry scowled as he shut the folder. "Find someone else to do your dirty work."

"I'm not asking you to do anything," Fury enunciated. "The people you see there like Hank Pym, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, are all capable of causing mass destruction to our planet. What I want you to consider is helping us."

"I am not killing someone who hasn't done anything yet," Harry replied with a hint of disgust.

"You misunderstand," Fury said as he maintained eye contact with the wizard before him. "I'm trying to prepare for a contingency."

Harry turned his gaze back to the folder as he opened it up once more. A picture of a large green brute roaring on the lawn of a campus stared back at him as flames from destroyed military vehicles burned in the background.

"You want me to join S.H.I.E.L.D.," Harry deduced as he looked upon Fury for an answer.

"I'm trying to save lives," Fury corrected, "Superhuman soldiers. What kind of military would want to resist that? All it takes is one slip up, and you would have the entire world chasing after you."

"And what's to say that you aren't trying to do the same either?" Harry asked as he noted the irony in Fury's words. "How do I know that you won't try to use me?"

"Because I'm offering you a choice." Harry found himself coming to a silence at Fury's words. "You can walk away right now and I wouldn't do a damn thing to stop you. But could you say the exact same for any other military or agency?"

"I have conditions," Harry said after carefully pondering Fury's words. "Anything that involves me, I want to know about it. And that no one else gets to know who I am and what I can do. And if I believe there's a better way of doing something, I want to have the choice to do it."

"That's acceptable." Fury nodded before offering his hand out to Harry which he shook. "I'm glad we could see eye to eye."

Harry nodded as he stood up from his seat. Grabbing his pack, Harry walked across the office floor and exited through the only doorway, allowing Fury to relax and lean back into his seat. With a sigh, Fury closed his eye and began rubbing his temples only to hear the door open once more.

"What?" Fury spoke out loud as he almost groaned.

"I forgot to mention that I still haven't finished my service," Harry replied sheepishly.

"By the time you walk out of this building, you will find that the British military will have accepted your transfer to S.H.I.E.L.D.," Fury said. "Oh, and Potter?"

Harry froze near the office entrance. His slightly turned head was the only thing that told Fury he had his attention.

"It was twelve, not ten."

* * *

"Sir, wouldn't Coulson be best suited for this position?"

"Coulson is busy investigating potential candidates for the initiative," Fury reminded his second as they marched through the halls of the Triskelion. "While Potter's advantages may prove useful in case of an escalation, I will not have him showcasing his powers unless it's absolutely necessary. Until such a time that is warranted, we need him close at hand."

"Even so, sir," Agent Hill spoke as they both entered an empty elevator. "Harry Potter offers a significant potential breach in security and protocol."

"Our security has already been breached, Hill," Director Fury reminded. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised. Which is exactly _why _we need Potter closeby."

"Operative Potter is still new, which means his loyalty is still untested," Hill said as she pointed out a flaw in Fury's reasoning. "If we need to focus on internals, we should follow up with internal affairs. Not an outside party."

"If S.H.I.E.L.D. has been breached, then internal affairs would have been as well," Fury replied. "What we need to worry about now is keeping our cards close at hand. Which is where you will come in. I need you to head a personal investigation into S.H.I.E.L.D.. I don't know how big and deep it goes but at the moment, we need to make sure that no one knows."

"I still don't understand that, sir," Hill continued with slight frustration. "Why _me_?"

"Because you are capable, Hill." A flicker of surprise waved across Hill's face before it was immediately extinguished by a blank facade. "And because I can't keep my eye trained on everything at the same time. We need Potter on our side in case anything occurs, and there are very few people I trust to do the job right."

"Yes, sir," Hill replied as the elevator doors opened. "Will Potter… be a part of the initiative?"

"Potter is a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.," Fury replied. "Whether he becomes a part of the Avengers initiative is still yet to be determined."

"Sir, you know I have my doubts about the… program," Hill carefully worded out as she allowed herself to rest her right hand against her hip. "What can a few select people do that our agency cannot?"

"More than you'll ever know, Hill," Fury answered vaguely, much to the woman's chagrin. "You've read the reports on the events in Harlem and New Mexico. I am not willing to throw away the lives of my agents at a problem they cannot handle. The world is changing Hill, it's about damn time we adapted to it."

* * *

"Again!"

Wiping the sweat away from his brow, Harry grunted before getting back into position.

Jab to the face.

Strike towards the stomach.

Both miss.

A strike from the left. Right.

A step back to maintain stability. Harry's head snapped back from the strike that slipped beneath his guard. Stepping forward, Harry launched another jab towards the woman's face, only to have his fist pushed to the inside. His eyes widened as he felt a sudden grip against his back as he was pushed downwards. A loud thumping sound filled the air as Harry found himself flat on his back with his head and arm trapped. A rising heat began to bloom in his face as he struggled to escape.

Gripping desperately at the leg locked across the front of his neck, Harry's feet slid across the smooth floor as they sought to find purchase. Smacking futilely against the leg lock, Harry could hear a slight grunt as a hazy figure rose in the corner of his vision in tandem with the increase in pressure across his neck. His vision slowly began to darken as the lights above began to shimmer.

Tapping the floor mat twice in succession, there was a gasp of relief as a leg lifted off his throat. Deep breaths filling his lungs with much-needed air, Harry was relieved to see a hand hovering in front of his blurry vision. Grabbing ahold, Harry found himself lifted to his feet.

A slight floral scent filled his nostrils amid the tinges of sweats. Blinking his eyes, Harry found himself staring at the stern visage of Maria Hill as she let go.

"Don't think I've ever seen that move before," Harry grumbled as he stretched his neck, trying to crack the vertebrae in his neck.

There wasn't even a twitch on his handler's face as she placed her hands on her hips. Turning around, she strolled over to the benches where she retrieved a small tablet.

"Combat skills… exceptional. Following today's conclusion," Hill began as she started typing on her tablet. "You are expected to report to me two days from now."

Her footsteps were almost silent as she began walking away towards the exit. There was a slight pause when she reached the doorway.

"Don't be late."

* * *

Harry's eyes flickered open as a faint ringing filled his ears. Grabbing a hold of the wand resting on the bedside table, Harry gave a swift swish through the air that abruptly cut off the wards' sirens.

As he set down his wand, Harry couldn't help but let out a groan of irritation as the bleak sunlight blazed through the slits of his curtains. A knock on the door downstairs forced him to roll out of bed as he shambled towards his bedroom doorway. The draft of cool air barely fazed him as the woes of interrupted sleep clouded his mind.

He nearly growled as a second knock sounded against his front door before he wrenched the door open. On the other side of the door stood his current handler, Maria Hill. Harry raised an eyebrow, now wishing he had grabbed a shirt on his way to the door. Wandlessly summoning a shirt, he pulled it over his head, attempting to look somewhat presentable.

"Enjoying your day off?" Hill asked with a raised brow as she pushed past him into the apartment. Harry inwardly cursed as he shut the door behind her.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Harry grunted as he watched Hill make her way to his dining table.

"You're being called in," Hill announced as she placed down a suitcase and file. Walking over, Harry discovered a file being shoved into his empty hands as Hill rounded the table.

"It's my day off," Harry protested weakly, but he still opened the file. Browsing through its contents, Harry's eyebrows slowly receded into his hairline as he rifled through several satellite images of a scorched cliff side.

"Operatives are on call twenty-four/seven. You are no exception," Hill responded as she shot him a slightly vexed look. "Now, earlier last night, S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence received reports of a possible WMD at a Ten Rings installation in Gulmira."

"We talking biological or nuclear?" Harry questioned as he observed one of the images more closely."

"Neither," Hill answered. "But something launched from the compound and crash-landed somewhere in this area." Harry tore his eyes away from his briefing to see Hill making a small circle on a map lying across the table. "There've been a few who stated it might be a mobile weapon's platform. The fact that Tony Stark was recovered the crash site does lend some credence to that idea."

"We," Hill looked up to meet Harry's interested gaze, "are being called in to locate and assess the wreckage."

Cradling his file, Harry carefully crafted his reply as his mind analyzed possible outside factors that could influence their new assignment. "Who did you say retrieved Tony Stark?"

"I didn't," Hill evaded as she gestured towards the case she brought in. "We will be racing the United States Air Force and Ten Rings to the crash site. I suggest you suit up now."

Harry popped open the case to reveal his armaments and outfit. As Hill walked outside to give him the courtesy of privacy, Harry couldn't help but wonder why they were being called in instead of a team already in the Middle East.

* * *

Stark had done his job thoroughly. The last few Ten Rings stragglers had been beaten to death by the citizens of Gulmira. It had been a rather boring assignment, but Harry was more than glad to join Hill when she made her report at the Triskelion. He'd never been to the D.C. Headquarters, more often having met with Fury in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s office in New York, if he met with him in the United States.

The building was tall and if Harry didn't know better, he'd have thought it was some sort of power plant. Hill led him through the front entrance and past all of the security checks before entering one of the lobby elevators. Harry looked out of the windows to watch the city as they went up. For the most part, D.C. was a picturesque city; it was, if he had read correctly, specifically designed to impress foreign dignitaries. Thinking of the organic but often disorganised Paris, Kabul, Baghdad, and London, that idea certainly made sense and seemed to have paid off.

They got off on the eighteenth floor and Harry followed Hill as she took them to an executive office with a nice view of the rest of the facilities. At a clear glass desk, Nick Fury was sitting, waiting for them. Looking at Fury, Harry had the distinct feeling that the older man certainly looked quite strange, sitting behind the desk and not out working in the field.

"So, what can you tell me?" asked Fury, pulling back to sit against his chair instead of leaning over his desk.

Hill obviously took this as an invitation to sit down, because she took the seat nearest the door, allowing Harry to take the other chair. She pulled out a small file and handed it to Fury, and began speaking as the man flipped through its contents.

"He took out all of the remaining Ten Rings forces in the area like we suspected. It was pretty clean for the most part. The altercation with the US Air Force will be marked as a training incident, though neither pilot was killed or injured too seriously for that matter."

Fury turned to Harry, "Anything that you would like to add, Potter?"

Harry looked at the file. "To be honest, it all seems a bit too set-up to me. I don't think that the Ten Rings were solely responsible for Stark's abduction."

Fury stared at him. "You think it might have been an inside job?"

"Taking a three humvee escort through enemy territory is completely impractical, especially during the day," Harry dutifully reported. "Practically suicide. I don't know who authorized such action but they should be demoted and taken in for questioning for such a blase use of VIP transport. The fact that Stark was captured during this event indicates either awareness he was being transported this way or immense luck. I'm leaning more to the latter due to the Ten Rings' use of explosives. I suspect that the US Air Force may be compromised in some way, most likely in the commanding ranks in order to have Stark assassinated."

Hill nodded. "It stands to say who has the most to gain from such an action as Stark _is _the main weapons contractor for the US military: executives from Stark industries dissatisfied with him; commanding ranks within the US Air Force that may have been paid off. We need to know who had the info on where Stark was going to be, and who has a vendetta against him. Coulson is already looking into things, but we could do with some direct oversight on Stark."

Fury placed the papers down on his desk. "Sounds like a plan. I'll inform Agent Coulson," he sighed. "In the meantime, have either of you ever heard of Dr. Bruce Banner?"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this took so long and that this chapter is shorter than usual. Depression and writer's block has been a major issue. Also, a big thank you for all of the well wishes following the last chapter, they're deeply appreciated. **

**Time skip in the next chapter, but we're finally moving into some of the action, so look forward to that. R&R!**


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